What I Least Expected To Learn
by bulletproofsince1999
Summary: John's been alone for most of his life. From middle school all the way to college. Until he meets this strange character and they become very close. Multiple chapters and suspected JohnLock... rated M for potential mature content... just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

What I Least Expected To Learn

Chapter 1

It was another ordinary day of school, or so John wanted to think that morning. He got dressed and brushed his teeth and ate breakfast like any other Friday morning. He felt the same as he always felt, abused and a little hungover from all the partying he likes to do. Abused because he's always been bullied, and when he started college, it didn't stop.

No, it got worse. Instead of rumors in middle school, or the usual fight in him school, it was a fight everyday, rumors all over and sex everywhere. And the worst part was that had no roommate in the dorms. So he had no knew to tell any of it to. Until he came back from classes that night, "Who the hell are you?!"

The tall burnett looked up to John, "Hi. I'm your new roomy, get over it." He laid back on the bed he as sitting on, "Do you mind the violin? And sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would this bother you?" He asks as if he didn't want to be there, and he didn't. Mycroft insisted he go to a university though, so here he is.

John sat down on his bed, and sighed. He flopped down on his back, "Just don't play when I'm trying to sleep, and if I start ranting, ignore me. Other people do and there's no point in listening to the problems I'll never get rid of," he shrugged. John could get used to having someone who would let him talk and not judge him for the shit that comes out of his mouth.

The burnett shrugged, "The name's Sherlock Holmes, by the way." And he started thinking about his expirements back at the house.

John rolled his eyes, "Is that supposed to impress or wow me?" he asks. Sherlock ignores his insulting question and continues thinking of what will happen to Muffin, their cat. He did, after all, expirement on her. But he wasn't sure what the result may be, so he'll just wait for someone to call and tell him the 'tragedy'. Honestly, he despised the creature. Ugh, she's always ruining something of Sherlock's and he hated her.

Then, Sherlock decided to answer John's question, "It's just a name, John," he sighed. Then he also realized, "Your name is in your textbook. And don't give me that look, I wanted to know who I was staying with before I could trust you enough to sleep here." John looked dumbfounded.

"Amazing." He said and rolled over, "Bloody brilliant," he complimented. He wanted to slap him, then again to applaud his observations. He can tell that with Sherlock, he'll have his ups and downs, but overall, it'll be fun. He rolled back over and propped himself up with his right elbow, "So, how old are you, because you look about nineteen."

Sherlock was a little young to be in college, but he has the brains to be here. "Because I am nineteen. Just turned last month actually. Why? How old are you?" Sherlock already knew the answer, but he wanted confirmation.

"Me?" He sighed, "I'm 21. But I got here late because of money issues. How did you get here?" he decided to ask. Its a valid question seeing as he's really young and doesn't have the look of a stressed worker. And John would know what a stressed worker looks like.

He sighed in disgust, "My brother insisted I get a real education, so here I am. He said it'd be easy, but I don't know yet. Guess I'll just have to wait and see." Sherlock sat up and fluffed his hair with his palms and it looked hilarious afterwards. But John didn't laugh, that'd be rude.

"Where is the money coming from? He doesn't just pull it out of his ass, does he?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed and chuckled, "Sometimes I swear he does. But no, he's part of the British government."

"Mum must be proud if him, then?" John asked, but told more than asked.

"Yes. Is your mother proud of you?" Sherlock asked. Obviously he doesn't know.

"What mother? Oh, the one who drank herself to death because my father died in action? Yeah, no. The only one I've got left is my sister and she wants nothing to do with me." John didn't mean to have a bad attitude but he's still pissed at his mother for being so selfish. Harry struggled to raise John, but they got him to where he is now, and he thanks her for it. But she doesn't want contact with John anymore.

Sherlock hasn't known this, but now that he did, "Well, then where's your best friend?" He's got to have someone to consult and tell his feelings to. There's got to be someone for everyone, right?

"Well, there was Mary, but she had to leave, then a few weeks later I got a letter from her parents that she died. So no, no best friend and no girlfriend or boyfriend. No one." John seemed to be complaining but he didn't mean to. It's always been this way, he has very few people and they end up leaving him. Which is why he was wondering why he hadn't kicked this man out yet. But there's something about him...

Then there was a knock at the door and Sherlock sprung up to get it. John simply sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Sherlock opened the door slightly, "What do you want?" he heard Sherlock grumble.

It was a female voice, as a matter of fact, it was Joanna. John despised this excuse for a woman. "I wanted to welcome you to the university. And wish you good luck with the stupid arse you're rooming with." Sherlock slammed the door in her face, and sat back down on his bed.

"I will, at all costs, avoid that woman. She disgusts me." That's the first time John has ever heard something like that said about her. People always think she's so nice and so pretty. But she disgusts him? Wow. John couldn't help but smile. Sherlock was confused, " What's so amusing?"

John chuckled and said simply, "You're the first person to dislike her. Everyone else loves her, except for me, of course. I never did like her."

Sherlock smiles, and he feels this weird feeling that confuses him. He decided he would look it up later and see if it's normal to feel like you can't stop smiling. Maybe it's some weird explainable thing. Or maybe... no! Never. Sherlock doesn't feel for anyone, and there's no way he'd feel that for a man!

Nonetheless, both of them knew that they'll at last be very good friends. John likes the fact that Sherlock dislikes the same type of people that he dislikes. Sherlock likes that he could finally make someone happy with his 'silly education's' and whatnot.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

John hadn't had a drink last night when he fell asleep. Instead he had Sherlock's company. He's glad that Sherlock was able to get him to stop drinking, and he did it in less than a week. John thought it would take years, but here he is, a week later, sitting beside Sherlock, eating and without a drink beside him. "Aren't you going to eat something?" John asked.

John didn't know how, but he was still hungry, even after what he had been through, and what he had seen. But Sherlock was too busy to eat anything. Plus, with what he was thinking about, he would only throw up the food.

Sherlock went through the events once again, this time more thoroughly... he thought back to the four days ago, when this all started.

"John! Put it down! You don't need any more than you've already had!" Sherlock yelled at his roommate and snatched the bottle from John. "Sit!" He pushed John down by the shoulders and he sat on his bed.

"Sherlock, it's not that bad. I didn't even-" John cut himself off and burped, which was followed by a hiccup. Sherlock frowned down upon his drunken mess, and raise his eyebrows ay him. "Oh come on, Sherlock." John was so drunk he didn't know what to say or do.

"John, get some sleep," Sherlock said as he pulled the blanket over John. "Good night."

"Sherlock?" He turned to see what the blond could possibly want now. And he bent down to ask what, but that was his mistake. John grabbed the curly haired burnett and smashed his thin but soft lips to Sherlock's pale but full ones. Sherlock could taste the alcohol on his roomy's breath.

Sherlock decided that John wouldn't remember this in the morning so, he would disregard it. Unless John does remember. Oh, God, what if he will? No, he's plastered, he won't remember a thing.

"Good night, Sherlock." John rollover and fell asleep instantly. Sherlock decided to fall asleep as well, but what he hasn't realized was that he did it at John's bedside. He had flopped on the floor and leaned against the bed and fallen asleep.

This situation was weird to wake up in. Luckily, John was still sleep when Sherlock woke up, and Sherlock stretched and stood. His back hurt a little, but that was it. He was more worried about if John will remember what happened. Please let him be the kind that blacks out.

Then, he heard a knock at his door. He looked at the clock, it's two in the morning, who could possibly be at the door? Sherlock's feet shuffled to the door and he yawned as he yanked it open. It was raining and under him he felt a note on the bottom of his bare foot.

He lifted his right foot and there was a little peice of paper. He picked it up and unfolded the one fold to reveal two neatly written words, "Watch Him." What? He closed the door and turned to see John still asleep. Oh. But who could possibly want to hurt John? He's so quiet and so kind.

Sherlock thought about it so much that time rolled by and John's alarm clock went off. "Ugh," he switched it off. He was majorly hungover. But he remembered the events of last night as if they had just happened. But he didn't tell Sherlock this. "What happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" John shook his head. "Well, you didn't get in any trouble, so does it really matter?" Sherlock asked his confused roomy. Or so he thought he was confused.

But John could remember what he had done. So, he simply shook his head, "If you say so." It's now six and John needed to get read for his seven o'clock class. Usually he drinks some coffee, but he wanted a shower first. He tells Sherlock he'll be back in a little bit, and disappeared down the hall with a towel and things to take a shower.

While John was gone, Sherlock kept thinking about the note. Should he tell John? Should he even mention it? He had no idea. Then he decided he would tell John about the note, but not last night.

While John was finishing brushing his teeth he hard someone walked out of the stall behind but left of him. He was wearing a suit that looked expensive and his hair was gelled back and as he approached the sink, "Hello, John." His voice as deep but unlike Shelock's it wasn't creamy. It was more professional. More, like he wanted to bring you down. Sherlock's was full of love and John already didn't like this man.

John spat in the sink and looked to this mysterious man, "Hi. How do you know my name?" John asked as the man washed his hands.

"So Sherlock didn't tell you? I sent him a note. But I guess he doesn't really like to play much, does he?" This man is strange, but interesting. John studied him, he looked well off and like he shouldn't even be at a university. "Tell him I send him my love," and with that, the man dried his hands and walked away.

He also left John wondering who the hell that was. Maybe he should ask Sherlock. Or maybe he should just ignore the fact that he was eve here. It's decided then, if need be, he'll tell Sherlock, but otherwise, he won't say a word.

He walked out and as he was walking down the hallway, he looked out window to the courtyard and saw that it was raining, still. John sighed, guess he can't play football today, can he? But he enjoys that game so much. When he's playing, no one judges him. As a matter of fact, they cheer him on.

That was also how he met Mary. Oh, Mary, he was so sorry for her death. Some people even tried to say she committed suicide, but John knew better than that. The little blond beauty he knew as Mary, would never have done something so horrible to herself.

He could still rememer, as he kept walking, her green eyes sparkling in the sun at the fact that she admired John. He openned the door to his room, but not before he looked at the gray numbers: 221b. He sighed and pushed it open.

The time was only 6:45 and Sherlock still sat in the chair at the small table in the left corner of the room. John pulled open the fridge beside his thinking roomy and grabbed a water bottle. He slammed the room door shut as he sat on the bed.

He took a swig of the now open bottle in his dominant and left hand. He twirled the cap in his right hand's fingers. He kept thinking about Mary and how much he wished she was still here. But hen again, John Watson,the lonely man, now has Sherlock Holmes, the detective to be.

John always bugged Sherlock about the fact that he'd make a great detective for the police. And Sherlock always says he wants nothing to do with the bloody idiots. But John continued to bug him about it,and he just kept telling John to shut up.

Sherlock finally spoke to his roommate, "John?" John hummed a what and looked at the burnett, "I have this note, and I wanted you to know that I think someone is out to get you. So, just be careful," Sherlock warned. He genuinely cared about John. And he as afraid that he might have feelings for him, but he can't let tht happen. Especially with someone saying John dead, or just hurt. Even so, Sherlock won't let that happen.

Plus, since last night, they both know that John is falling for Sherlock. John regrets it, but it's happening and there isn't really much John or Sherlock can do to stop it. He had no idea why he liked Sherlock, he had never fallen in love with a man before, so he had no idea why he liked Sherlock the way he did. Just kind of started and it won't stop.

John regrets it, only because he wasn't sure if Mary would want him to just forget her and move on. Especially when it's a man! John's never done this before at all.

Sherlock has no fucking idea what his emotions see trying to say. He likes John, but he's never liked a man before. Then again, he's never liked anyone before.

John finally spoke to his burnett, "What does it say?"

"Here," Sherlock handed him the two word note. John reads it and doesn't understand, so Sherlock explains as much as he knows, "It's a threat, but who would want to hurt you?" Sherlock had idea about te man in the bathroom, but John also had no idea that he even meant anything to the case at hand.

"Well, looks like you have a case, Detective Holmes. But I have classes, so I'll see you tonight," and John hurried out the door to the classes that would take all day. But before he did, he hugged Sherlock. He was a little surprised but John was the one person who could surprise Sherlock. The one person that Sherlock sometimes couldn't read.

When John left, Sherlock started thinking again. John's hiding something and Sherlock didn't know what it was, that was enough to keep him thinking until he too had to get ready for his 9:00 class, and from there, he wouldn't be home until 7. John woud be back by 6, so he would have an hour to himself. Sherlock hoped John wouldn't pick up the bottle again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

John got back to the room first, and sat down and started his homework. Once that was over and done with, he started to just study, but then Sherlock walked in. John looked to his roomy, "Hey," he said as he yawned.

Sherlock nodded, "Hi, where is it?" he asked John. He expected him to deny its existence, but he simply pulled what was left of the alcohol out of the fridge and dumped it down the drain.

He threw away the bottle and and sat down again. He thumped his face down into the book and groaned in frustration. He looked back up to Sherlock sitting in front of him in the other chair, "We need something else. Have you found anything on the note?" John asked the training detective. Sherlock shook his curls, "Ugh, so boring. It's too quiet. No one's bothered me lately, except for one person, but I don't even know him, so he doesn't count." John just kept complaining.

Sherlock, luckily for John, was too busy thinking to listen to John. So he heard nothing of the man who had bothered John in the bathroom. Finally Sherlock joined in on the one sided conversation, "John?" John hummed that he was listening, "Has a man approached you lately? A very expensive looking man?" Sherlock chose his words carefully.

John rolled his eyes, "I thought you'd never fucking ask! Yes! And he won't leave me alone. He won't give me a name, though," John was confused that Sherlock was just now asking.

Sherlock pulled out another note, that he had found in his text book, it had said, "Watch Him. P.S. Someone Might Hurt Him." He handed it to John, "This confuses me. But, after I read it, I looked back up to this strange bloke staring at me from across the classroom, and he looked expensive. Almost like he didn't belong here," Sherlock explained to his roomy.

John looked at Sherlock and his eyes got wider, "That- that sounds like him," he says. Sherlock thinks about this, then John asked, "Do you think he's the one sending the notes?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, then widened, "No, but he's writing them. Someone else is sending them." Sherlock sped out of his chair and said to John, "Stay here, I'll be back." And he rushed out the door to talk to the messenger.

John sat and stared at the words in the text book. Then he was suddenly thirsty, so he grabbed the water out of the fridge. He quit drinking soda when it cost him more every week.

He chugged the water as he sat down to read the text book. Then suddenly the words became bhurry and he couldn't concentrate correctly. His face fell into the book and he was fast asleep.

But you see, the strange man knew this would happen and he took advantage of John's drugged situation.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was on a wild goose chase, because the messenger was dead. As soon as Sherlock pushed open the unlocked door, he saw her on the floor in the strangest way.

She was knotted to a chair and her throat was slit. But the bruises left suggested that she was tortured before they killed her. Sherlock deduced that someone wanted her to suffer before she met her end. She had bruises over her eyes, and her neck. Someone choked her.

Then there was the cuts on her arms and legs. But the biggest one was the one made after she was dead. Someone cut her stomach open and her intestines were strewn about the floor as if they were streamers to a party. Sherlock almost vomited.

But what did she do that...? Then Sherlock understood, and he rushed out of the dorm room to get to his own. This was a distraction and a power play, all in one girl: Joanna. Well, her death, but still. He used her to get to John. Sherlock ran as fast as he could, his long coat waving behind him.

Sherlock burst through the door to find John tied to a chair and of course, gagged. He looked at Sherlock as if to say, "You idiot." Sherlock rolled his eyes at John and turned to the figure knew was sitting in a chair at their little round table.

It was the man that was staring at him in class. "Sherlock, sit," he demanded. He waved his hand to the familiar seat Sherlock always sat in. "We have a game to start and for me to win," he smiled.

Sherlock sat in his preferred chair and narrowed his eyes at this man, deducing as much as he could. He's obviously rich, but what is he doing here? Sherlock's best guess was that he wanted to show off. But why? What else is there besides the money?

Wait, I can't be the only person to get bored, Sherlock thought. No, this man is distracting himself and showing off. "Clever," Sherlock said aloud. Sherlock grinned and the man looked confused.

"Am I?" he asked the training detective. Sherlock nodded, his curls bouncing in the process.

"Well, I just came by to tell you that the games started and it won't end without death. And my name? It's Jim Moriarty. You'll see me around," and with that he stood and walked out the door. He closed it softly and they heard him walking away.

Sherlock rushed to John's side, "I need to show you something. We need to go now, though." Sherlock freed his blond and they rush off to where? John had no idea.

Sherlock lead him to the murder ran in on and John looked at her sideways, "Is that?... oh. Well, she's been dead only a few hours," John was training to be a doctor. He was even thinking about joining the military, but he still doesn't know.

They examined the body as much as possible and called in the police, then left. Sherlock hated the police, he said they're too stupid and don't know how to properly deduce a mystery. So they left before the authorities could make themselves look stupid.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When they reached the dorm room, they flopped down onto their individual beds. They hadn't even removed their jackets. They were too exhausted from school and then all the running that Sherlock wanted to make John do.

"Sherlock," John rolled his head to face him,"you should be studying," John said to the tired burnett.

He sighed, "I know, but I'm so tired," he complained to John.

John sat up and looked at his clock, "It's only 9. Get up and get busy, detective." John was calling him that now. He liked the way it sounded rolling out of his mouth. Plus, on him it sounded sexy. Sexy? John gave up, yes, the training detective is sexy to him. John liked Sherlock's personality, but he then started notice a lot more about him that he hadn't before.

Sherlock also saw John as cute and lovable. Like the teddy bear he never had. John's walk was even cute. But Sherlock's movements strikes John as interesting. He walked like anyone else, but Sherlock always wore a suit, which made his butt pop more than anyone else's. And John, for some reason, liked that. But the way John walked, Sherlock thought of as adorable. He has this thing, where he waddles a little and Sherlock wants to giggle every time he sees it. Plus, John's butt is cute, so it gives him an excuse to stare at it.

Then, there was Sherlock's eyes. They were definitely blue, but they had a hint of gray that made them look as though someone swirled paint onto a canvas and there was Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock loved John's eyes. They were blue, but in a fierce way. The way they looked at Sherlock made them seem loving, though. Sherlock loved trying to deduce John's feelings because he got to stare into those light blue eyes.

Then there was Sherlock's hair. It was a mess of tight and short brown almost black curls. They seemed untamable but John wanted so bad to see if they were soft and as fluffy as they looked. John's hair was too simple to make anything of it. But Sherlock liked it. It was cut short and blond, and in the sun, it looked white.

All of the things that they had observed about one another, was now painfully obvious when they stared at each other. Sherlock didn't want to study, and John didn't want to make him study. But if he had to, he would. He was prepared to do whatever it took to help Sherlock pass and have the good life that John knows he will near have.

Sherlock groaned and stood up. He stretched out and took his jacket off, only to throw it on the floor beside his bed. John liked that jacket, it made Sherlock look mysterious. But John did the same. But instead, he hung it on the back of his chair. He liked his jacket too much to just throw it on the floor.

Sherlock sat in his chair and pulled his book out his bag and plopped it open. He started his homework and thought it was too easy, so he got bored with it in just a few minutes. "John," John hummed that he was listening, Sherlock continued. "I'm bored. Could you make this less boring?" he whined.

John stood over him and looked down while Sherlock looked up at John, "What could I possibly do to make this interesting?" John could think of a few things, but not that Sherlock would like, or so he thought.

Sherlock gave John puppy dog eyes, "I could think of a few things that both of us could enjoy," is Sherlock flirting with John? John wanted to believe he was, but this is Sherlock, he doesn't have interest in human contact. John was so wrong, about it all.

"If you're saying what I think you are, I thought you didn't like that kind of thing, and I'm not gay." John kept trying to convince himself that he had no interest in Sherlock. "Plus, we've only known each other for a week," he tried to reason.

Sherlock came back with, "I knew you within the first ten seconds I saw you. And you know me pretty well. Besides, who said I wasn't talking about a murder?" Damn you, John thought to himself.

John just shrugged, "You still have to do it. Besides, shouldn't it be easy for you? You always brag that school is too easy for you. Just saying, sodding arse." John insulted him, but it was just a game that Sherlock and him played all the time.

"Okay, fucker. But what if I was talking about what you want to think I was talking about?" he teased. John thought about this.

"Then, I guess I would have to do this," he leaned down over the staring Sherlock, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Almost as if he was unsure that that was the right answer. He wants it to be the answer, but wasn't sure if it was.

Sherlock stared into John's sparkling blue eyes, he saw love, but lust twisted into them as well. Sherlock's bluish grey eyes were also full of love, but lust was definitely tangled in there somewhere. They could see their feelings one another's eyes.

Sherlock grabbed John by his jumper and pulled him down to meet him again. He made John's lips hover above his own, and he hesitated before kissing John again. John smiled and kissed him again and again.

Sherlock stood to meet John and hovered over him. He placed his right hand on John's cheek and his left on John's hip. John's left hand went through Sherlock's soft curls and his right went over the elbow of the arm attached to the hand on his hip. John's left hand came down frm Sherlock's curls and to his cheek.

Sherlock leaned his head into John's hand as his thumb traced his cheekbone. Sherlock's thumb hooked under John's jumper and his forefinger was under the button-up that John always put under a jumper. This finger made circles on John's soft skin, and John almost shivered at Sherlock's touch.

When Sherlock leaned over John, his hand went completely under the shirt and as Sherlock's lips landed on John's, John shivered. Sherlock's hand went up further and John shivered as he let out the smallest moan.

Sherlock was pleased with this and continued kissing John. John's hand found Sherlock's hair again and he tugged on it, ever so slightly. Sherlock let out a little moan and John was pleased with himself. Sherlock's other hand had, by now, moved to the nape of John's neck.

Sherlock finally got tired of leaning over his short roomy and pulled John over to his bed and sat down. He looked up at I'm, but John only stood there. He wasn't sure if Sherlock wanted more, or if he just wanted to sit down. John looked over Sherlock carefully, his eyes, then his breathing, then his pants. John concluded that Sherlock just wanted to sit.

There was still just that hint of lust in Sherlock's eyes, but it hadn't grown, and he didn't have an erection, so John felt it was safe to sit on his college roomy. As he positioned himself over Sherlock, he was still a little unsure, but succeeded in sitting on top of Sherlock. Sherlock placed his hands on John's hips and John put his on Sherlock's shoulders. John was on his knees on top of Sherlock, staring into his eyes.

Sherlock had his feet flat on the floor, his knees supporting the John on top of him. With Sherlock being so tall, they were now at eye level and Sherlock and John could see perfectly into each other's eyes.

In this complete silence, they could hear the rain pound on the roof and the sidewalk outside. John hugged Sherlock tight and the smell of him made John stay like this. Sherlock embraced his blond and took in the feel of John on him, and he didn't want this moment to ever end.

But sadly, it had to, "Well," John started, "if you won't do your homework, the I guess the only thing left is to sleep," John suggested. He kissed Sherlock on the cheek, and moved off of him and shuffled over to his closet. It was a walk in closet, seeing as the dorm bathrooms were shared an there were no individual ones in the rooms.

He pulled sleep wear from his closet and changed. While John did this, Sherlock did the same. On the inside, he was mad that John left him, but on the outside, his face was blank. They finished changing and they met each other's gazes once more. John smiled weakly and Sherlock grinned. "Oh, John. I'm cold, won't you warm me? Please?" he begged.

John sighed, "You want me to sleep with you, don't you?" Sherlock nodded and smiled with puppy dog eyes begging John to come hither. Sherlock slipped under the covers and John followed, all the while wondering why he was doing this. Then he remembered why. Because he wants to be loved instead of just loving someone else. Because he needs to be with someone. Because he... because he loves Sherlock.

As he slipped under the overs, he wondered how Sherlock had gotten John to fall for him so quickly without even trying. Sherlock also wondered how John got Sherlock to fall for him when Sherlock doesn't fall in love with people. He sure as hell didn't think he'd fall in love with a man. John also didn't think, that of all people, he'd fall in love with someone who didn't love people. They were both surprised by their love for each other.

John laid his head on Sherlock's left arm and put his left arm on Sherlock's stomach, as well as his left leg over Sherlock's long legs. Sherlock wrapped his left arm around John's shoulders. John muzzled his head into Sherlock's neck and Sherlock stroked the ends of the hair that stopped at John's neck. John shivered under Sherlock's fingers.

Sherlock smiled and kissed John on the forehead, "Night." John hummed a response and they fell asleep together. Warm and happy and finally in love.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

John woke up tangled into Sherlock and then remembered last night. He looked over to his clock, it's three in the morning, why was he awake? He had no idea.

Sherlock stirred, "John? Wha-" then he remembered. Oh, yeah, John slept here last night. And why John slept here, was because Sherlock had practically begged him to. Sherlock chuckled, "Hi, John. Sleep well?" he asked his sleepy blond.

"A lot better than on my own. Thanks," he said. "Bastard." There was the playful insult again.

"Asshole. So, I guess I have to do my work now?" Sherlock didn't wanna. John grunted and sat up. He smirked and kissed the burnett. He nodded and Sherlock sat up and John moved out from under the covers and stood.

He grabbed Sherlock by the hand, "Come on. Get up." He drug Sherlock to the little table where his book laid open. He sat him down and made him finish what he started last night. "See? Was easy, was it not?" John asked the very bored Sherlock.

Sherlock groaned, "You know, we still have a few hours before you have to get ready and leave." Sherlock grinned.

John chuckled, "Sherlock, shut up." He grabbed the tall man by his blue robe and pulled him up to reach John's lips. Sherlock's full but soft lips hit John's thin but hypnotising lips. Sherlock smiled under the pressure and John did as well.

Sherlock stood upward when they heard a knock at the door. Sherlock and John looked to each other in confusion. Then they heard someone. A man, "Help! Somebody, please! Bloody help me!"

Sherlock rushed to the door as John prepared for the worst. This man burst through the door, soaking wet. "My-" he had tears and blood, "My husband. He-" he collapsed on the floor and cried.

John asked this man,"What happened? Where?"

"This man, he took my husband and killed him. And he made me..." he couldn't even get it out without more tears.

"How did you get here?" Sherlock asked.

The man explained, "I live in the room next door and saw that Charlie was gone. So I went to look for him, but I didn't have to go far, because this man had him by the throat and he... he killed Charlie! But he... he did it in the most horrific way. And he made me watch and he let me live, why did he let me live!?" He sobbed into his hand on the floor.

John and Sherlock asked at the same time, "Where is Charlie?!" They looked at each other and smiled slightly.

"In... in the hallway," he sobbed.

The boys rushed to the body outside the door next to them. He was right. The man was killed very horrifically. His eyes were gone and on the floor beside him. Almost all of his fingers were missing and scattered. His tongue was ripped out and insides were just everywhere. His throat was ripped open and he was on his side. It was pretty bad.

Sherlock and John almost threw up their own guts. And the blood, there was some of it on a window, and it seemed to spell out something. It looked like, "Watch him..." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but then John screamed.

Sherlock looked to see John being held by a very big man. This man had his hand over John's mouth, and by his shoulders. John's feet scrambled and he tried to get a good grip on the tile beneath him, but he couldn't.

Sherlock heard someone behind him, he turned to see a suit, and in that suit was, "Moriarty," Sherlock growled. Why is it always John that has to be taken?

"Hello again, Sherlock. Did you like my little present? I thought it was very gay like." He chuckled and Sherlock heard that he was chewing gum.

"It was, in no way, happy. Let him go," Sherlock demanded.

"No. Not until I'm finished with you. And maybe even then," he teased.

"Do what you want, just leave him alone," Sherlock once again demanded.

"No. This is fun. I just want to play a game, is that too much to ask?" he tries to make it sound as if it was justified.

"It's not fun when you take the people I love and don't give them back." John was surprised. Sherlock loves him? But, that didn't make sense. John thought he didn't.

"Oh? Then I guess this won't be fun, either." He snapped his long and skinny fingers. The man holding John produced a knife. John squirmed at the shine of it, and dug his nails into the man's arm.

Sherlock stared as if he wouldn't really. But the next thing he knew, this man's blade was gone, and it disappeared into John's abdomin. "John!" He looked back to Moriarty, but he was gone. And when he turned bak to John, the taller man was also gone. John was lying on the ground and the knife stayed where it was. John wasn't stupid enough to take it out. "Hang on, John! I'm getting help!"

Sherlock ran to the room and brought back a gun, and shot the glass out of the window to the courtyard. It the one with the writing on it, of course. John seemed confused, but couldn't be for very long before he screamed out in pain, "Sherlock! Ah! It hurts so much!"

Sherlock wanted to take away the pain, or if possible, make it his own. He hated Moriarty now. He loved how clever he could be, but hated how bluntly cold he was. "John, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for any if this!" He kneeled to John and placed his hands on the blond's stomach to try to stop some of the bleeding, but it failed miserably.

Then, the most random thing happened, the man from the dorm room ran out into the hall, and down the other way, all the while, he was screaming. Sherlock shook himself from the confusing scene and focused once more on John.

Then there was a policeman in the hall and he said, "There's an ambulance outside, let's get him there." As they tried to get John to settle in Sherlock's arms, " What happened?"

As Sherlock carried John outside, "Well, obviously he was stabbed! You sodding fuck! Just shut your stupid mouth," he didn't mean to be so mean, but this was John. He didn't want any of this to happen, and now it is. Sod this, sod all of it.

John was put in the vehicle and Sherlock climbed in behind him. Luckily, when Sherlock went back to the room, he had slipped on his shoes. The doors shut and they were off, while the medics did all they could to save John from Death's cold fingers.

All the while, Sherlock couldn't stop thinking of ways that he could get back at Moriarty for this. All the ways he could kill him the next time he saw him...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sherlock was bent over John's abdomin, asleep. John was also asleep, obviously. He just had surgery to patch up his stomach. Sherlock had John's hand curled into his own, and he never let go.

Sherlock stirred and at first he was confused, then remembered why he was here and he looked at John, sad that he was here as well. Then, a doctor pulled the door open, "Hey," she said. "He won't be awake for a few more hours, so you can leave if you really want to. But when he does wake up, we'll call you," she assured the worried burnett.

Sherlock stood, "Yeah, I'd like that. But, I have school, so could you just text me?" Sherlock didn't want to do this, but he knew that John would want him to. She nodded and Sherlock left.

He hailed a cab and went 'home' to get his books and go back to his somewhat normal life. Plus, he had to pass these classes. If he didn't, he'd never be able to be a detective. And he wanted to make John happy.

So, he grabbed his books, got dressed and finished the hour of his first class. Luckily, he was only a few minutes late, it was 9:03 and he had just slipped in the door.

But after he finished this class, he couldn't go on with the rest. So instead, he grabbed a boom box and hooked his IPod into it. He played his music and he danced. Yes, he danced. And it wasn't classical, either. It was break dancing. He's always loved it, but he never admitted it to anyone. But he knew a couple things about busting moves on the dance floor.

He liked it in high school, but never told anyone for the fear he would be called a faggot for liking any type of dance. Sherlock never was liked by his peers. But Sherlock never liked his peers anyway.

Then he heard a little ding in his pocket. He stood up straight and looked at the text: He's awake and asking for you... - BH

Sherlock ran out of the door and down the hall to the sidewalk outside and hailed a cab to Bart's.

He ran into John's room, "John!" he wrapped his arms around John's shoulders. Sherlock was wearing a gray hoodie and black skinny jeans, what he loves to wear when he's alone. John wanted to question his fashion change, but decided not to.

"I didn't think you would actually give up class to come and see me," John blushed.

Sherlock smiled, "I wasn't in class. I couldn't stop thinking about you so I was in the dorm room, all alone..." he quickly changed the subject to, "So, does it still hurt?"

John smiled slightly at the fact that Sherlock can still be so clueless, "A little, but not as bad as before. And I can take it, I've had worse done to me," he admitted. He still hadn't told Sherlock about that. The again, he didn't want to tell anyone about the summer of nineth grade. But he would tell Sherlock at some point.

Sherlock gave him a confused look, then decided to tell John what's been on his lonely mind lately. "Well, the next time I see Moriarty, he'll be another dead body. I swear," he said to his lover.

"Sherlock," John placed his small and soft hand over Sherlock's, "It's fine. I'm... fine. Look, I don't care what he did to me, I love you and he can't change that. So, it's okay," he gripped Sherlock's hand a little tighter.

"You-" Sherlock smiled and let out a breathy chuckle, "You love me? Right, that happened. Um, yeah, I don't think you do, no one does." Sherlock's hair hung in his face and he looked down at John's hand over his.

"Sherlock, I don't care what anyone else thinks, I judge you the way I judge you, and I love you. Don't make me say it again," he said to the almost in tears Sherlock.

"I thought, I thought I was going crazy or that something was wrong with me. But now, I know what's going on in my head. I finally know what this is," he looks up to see John's questioning eyes, "I am in love. John Watson, I love you," Sherlock finally admitted to himself and to John.

John's small smile got wider, "Come here, Detective Holmes," he held his arms out for Sherlock to hug him.

Sherlock embraced him while trying not to hurt him, or knock the I.V. out if his arm. He got around both and took in the smell if John, his John, his little soldier. He pulled back just enough to look into John's eyes.

He pressed their foreheads together, and tilted John's chin to where their lips met. And in this kiss was passion, gentleness, and love. No lust, no sexual tension, just the want to have each other stay.

Sherlock pulled away and John asked, "Why do you love me?"

"I could ask you the same," Sherlock smirked at his little blond. John just smiled and pulled him back into a hug. Then someone screamed, and Sherlock begged John with his eyes.

John rolled his eyes, "Go, Detective Sexy," John complimented the brunett. Sherlock blushed and kissed him lightly, then was gone down the hall to see what was wrong.

Apparently, one of the doctors at the front desk fell unconscious, and they think he's dead. By from the a he was laying over the desk, Sherlock could tell he was still alive, but not for long. Sherlock looked him over a bit more then said to the nurse beside him, "He's been poisoned, you might want to tell them that, before he dies in the next... oh, two minutes? Yeah, two."

The nurse just gawked at this man who was so calm about death, Plus the fact that he looked a little bit like a teenager, but on Sherlock, it was hot and he knew it. She closed her mouth, "Um, yeah. I'll get right on that. Um, doctor!" Sherlock drowned out the sounds and looked around himself.

If there's tragedy, there's Moriarty, so where is Jim? Sherlock didn't see him anywhere. Then, he turned back to the massacre in front of him, and on the desk, was a sticky note that wasn't there before. Sherlock read, "You really should never leave the gay..." God damn it! Sherlock ran back to John.

Moriarty was sitting in the chair beside John and John was glaring at him. He looked to Sherlock, "You've changed. But, this is getting old, isn't it? I mean, death is fun, but me needing it to get to you is boring, don't you think? And John just doesn't care anymore, we need a new game to play," he grinned.

Sherlock looked down on Jim, "I was unaware that I was playing a game," he pointed this out to the shorter man below him.

"We're all always playing a game, just not the right ones sometimes. Play a game with me, Sherlock. A little detective game," he smiled. He stood, "One where someone important dies and then the main character becomes clinically depressed. Or, maybe one where they both die and the villan takes over Gotham City for a while," he just kept smiling.

Sherlock looked into this man's eyes and saw... lust? What the hell? Oh, now the idiot detective understands. Now, he gets why Moriarty wants to play. He turns to John, "So, how's the view? Do you like it? John."

John tilted his head, knowing exactly what Sherlock was talking about, "Yeah. I like it, and I like it when you wear a suit," John's head went straight up again and he grinned at Jim.

"Yes, I like the suits, too. Don't you, Jim?" Sherlock lingered on the last word as if... as if he was flirting? He's flirting with Jim Moriarty?! John was surprised with this. But, so was Jim, and that's what Sherlock needed.

Then, the more John thought about it, the more it made sense. The game, the kidnappings, the murders... you put it together and you get, psychopathic love. Ew. John didn't like the idea of Sherlock and Jim. But maybe that's just John being possessive.

"Sherlock, I like your jeans, but it looks more professional if you wear a suit. College boys look better in suits," and he just walked away. That was it, no remarks, just the truth and an exit. He is really random, and John thinks he's bipolar.

I mean, "One minute he's killing, the next he wants to play a game, then he just gets serious and walks away," John looks to Sherlock, "It's just so weird. Do you think he's on his man period?"

Sherlock was about to actually answer that, wen he realized what John had just said, and they both started laughing. It hurt for John, but only a little and he didn't care. As long as he was happy, he didn't care.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sherlock decided to stay that night in the hospital, sleeping on John, holding John's hand in his own, and making sure it stayed no matter what. The doctors thought it was cute, Sherlock hated that they'd giggle every time they see Sherlock and John together. Women are strange characters, he thought. But then again, even some if the men chuckled at Sherlock and John. It was a weird night.

He woke the next morning to John already awake and stroking Sherlock's hair out of his eyes. He smiled, "Hey," his voice was creamy and Sherlock loved it.

He sat up and stretched. He was a little sore, but it was worth it, "Hi, little soldier." Sherlock stroked John's now pink cheek. Sherlock smiled even more.

"I'm not a soldier, Sherlock. I'm a college boy," but he still liked the compliment. He also likes Sherlock's hand on his face, or anywhere else honestly.

"No, you're right. You're not just a soldier, you're my little soldier," his cheeks were now scarlett and Sherlock loved this look about John.

"You're my sexy detective, love," John loved that nickname now. The Sexy Detective. Yes. Sherlock loved it, too. "By the way," John started, "what's with the style change?" John wasn't complaining, just wondering.

Sherlock looked down at his hoodie and jeans, and under the hoodie was a black Peirce The Veil shirt. He chuckled, "This may surprise you," he looked to John, "But, I dress like this when no one's looking. I like it, but..." he bit his lip and looked down at the hands he curled into his lap.

"Fuck what anyone else wants to say, I like it and you don't have to hide it from me." John spoke his mind, "As a matter of fact, I kinda like it better than your suits," John shrugged.

Sherlock was surprised by this, especially with it coming from John. He didn't think John would like it at all. He sighed and took his hoodie off. It's hot. "So, you think I should wear it more often?" Sherlock asked his blond.

John nodded furiously, "Wear it to class, see what people say about it. I bet you'll get hit on," John winked at his lover.

Sherlock blushed, "Sure. I guess I could." Sherlock shrugged.

"By the way, I'm stealing that one day," he nodded at Sherlock's band tee. "It's awesome," Sherlock seemed confused. "Is there something wrong with me liking that kind of music?" he asked the dumbfounded Sherlock. He laughed softly.

Sherlock shook his head, "I just didn't think you would... anyway. Are you hungry? You should eat. I need to think," Sherlock said to the little blond.

Just then, a nurse brought in a tray with some yogurt and other was things that were easy to digest, "You need to start out with something easy and then you can eat more likable things," she said. Sherlock scoffed, but kept his comments to himself, for once.

She left, and John started with what he liked most, bananas. "Aren't you going to eat anything?" John asked.

Sherlock popped back into the moment, "Been away for quite a while this time," John said. Sherlock jumped and nodded.

"How long?" Sherlock asked. He looked to John who was simply smiling.

"About two hours, whatchya thinking about?" John asked.

"How to get Moriarty to stop. Hopefully, the only way is to kill him, I'd be delighted to." Sherlock grinned at the thought of making Jim beg for his life hopelessly. That would make Sherlock smile.

"Sherlock, I told you, it's okay. I'll be fine," he tried to calm his burnett.

"He tried to kill you! John, he was trying to take you from me, and all I want to do is make him feel the same way!" Sherlock tries to calm himself, but ended up standing and kicking the chair. He crossed his arms over his skinny chest and leaned against the wall. His hair flopped over his eyes and he was pouting.

John sighed, "Sherlock, get over here," he demanded. Sherlock looked up to see John smiling and he was confused by this, "Get your sexy ass over here, now," he demanded again.

Sherlock rushed to John's side and looked down at him, confused. "What?"

John chuckled, and pulled him by his shirt and made their lips connect. When he let go, Sherlock took over and kissed John again and again, he couldn't help himself. John smiled through all the butterfly kisses they planted on each other.

And the strangest part was that neither one of them had thought to try to get tongue. Jon usually liked it, but he didn't feel the need to have it with Sherlock, I mean, obviously at some point, he'll taste Sherlock, but not now. He just liked his company. Sherlock, on the other hand, didn't want to try it because he's never done it before.

But with John, he'd like to try it someday, not today, but some other day. Today is just random things and waiting for John to heal.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It's been a few weeks now, and John's healed and going back to school. Sherlock started going back two days after John got into the hospital, but only because John had made him leave and go to school.

They were in the dorm room studying when John asked Sherlock, "So, I've been thinking, about us, and are we together? Like, boyfriends?" John was surprised he hadn't asked earlier, but he guessed it was just because of all the stress lately.

"Yes, why? Do we need a label, John? I didn't really think it mattered," Sherlock sighed.

"I was just wondering, because people keep asking me about us and I don't know what to say. But I guess know now." He smiled at Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed in disgust, "I don't why you feel the need to label our relationship. I love you, and that's all that matters, isn't it?" John shrugged, "Don't shrug at me, John. I'll have to do something about it if you do," he teased.

"What would you do to me?" He stood and looked up at Sherlock, "If I continued, to shrug at you?" He smiled and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock placed his hands kn John's hips, " I'd have to kiss you until you quit it," he pressed their foreheads together. John smirked and shrugged again. Sherlock pretended to be angry at him and kissed him hard on the lips. John kissed back.

Then it was suddenly serious and they were kissing each other more than usual. John decided that now was the time to try what he told himself he would. His tongue flicked across Sherlock's bottom lip.

At first, Sherlock was confused by this, but then he understood and he let John taste him. John was so sweet, Sherlock couldn't stop caressing John's tongue with his own. John also couldn't let the taste of Sherlock get away. He was sweet, but then again, not. John had no idea, but he liked it.

Sherlock's grip was tighter on John's hips and he slammed them to his own. John's fingers found Sherlock's hair and toyed with it. This was why John don't want to try this until now, because with him, tongue creates sexual tension. He didn't know why, but when he did it, it did.

Sherlock tilted his head slightly so that John could get in easier and Sherlock could continue to taste him. Sherlock let out a small moan when John left his lips and put his own to Sherlock's neck.

But sadly, this moment was ruined when Sherlock heard his cell yelling that Mycroft was calling him. He groaned his annoyance and picked up the cell off the table, while never leaving John's hold. John had moved his hands to Sherlock's hips so that he could speak.

"What do you want?" He seemed irritated. Then again, he's always irritated with his brother.

John couldn't hear this, but he said, "I have case for you to help with, would you be interested in this? You cold bring John along if you wish," he seemed to like John.

What John did hear was Sherlock sigh in frustration, "Why should I? Is it even interesting enough?" Sherlock always complains that he's bored and that was also how things almost happened just now. Probably because he was bored.

Again, John didn't hear this, but the elder Holmes said, "It as a violent death, that's all you need to know. But we need someone to figure out who did it, or possibly what. We're not even sure." Sherlock perked up at this.

John looked at him, confused. He said, "This sounds promising. Why can't every case be like this?" he asked his brother.

Mycroft was annoyed with his little brother, "Just get there. I'll text you the address." And he hung up. Sherlock closed the phone ans made a face at it. He threw it kn the bed and stuck his tongue out at it. John assumed he didn't like person on the other end.

"Case?" John was confused.

"Since Mycroft knows I'm capable ans he doesn't want to do it, when the police need help, they get me. Consulting detective, only one and invented the job. But I don't get paid for it. I just like the mystery and death," he looked down on the weirded out John.

Sherlock shrugged and heard the cell phone ding. He rolled his eyes and John asked, "So, you have job, but... you don't paid for it?" John was confused.

"It's not a job," Sherlock picked up the cell, " It's a hobby." John would say something to this, but instead, he just took Sherlock's hand and laced his fingers through Sherlock's.

They walked out of the door and all the while, Sherlock was smiling at their joined hands. John blushed. Sherlock was still wearing his skinny jeans and his hoodie with a band tee underneath. But that as okay, because John was wearing one under his jumper as well. He stole it from Sherlock and he likes it.

They climbed into the cab and Sherlock recited the address from the screen of his cell. Then he looked at John, and couldn't believe he had someone so amazing by his side.

John was looking out his window, so he didn't notice when Sherlock was staring and deducing John as much as he could. But somehow, John was difficult to find anything on. It confused Sherlock and not many people can do that.

Also, when people confused Sherlock he gets pissed, but with John, he liked it. He liked the fact that John had a mysterious side. John finally looked and saw Sherlock staring at him, "Something wrong?" he asked.

"No. No, as a matter of fact, everything's perfect. Completely... perfect," Sherlock smiled.

"You know, when I first started talking to you, you sad sentiment was a chemical defect on the losing side. Change your mind about that?" He smiled, and expected nothing from Sherlock. So he looked back out the window at the streets and buildings flying by.

"Actually, no. But we're not on a side. So we can't lose or win," he said matter of factly. John sighed and smiled while shaking his head. He squeezed Sherlock's hand briefly and turned to look at him.

"You just love being right, don't you?" John teased. Sherlock shrugged. He preferred being right over wrong, but it doesn't mean he'll always be right.

"I may love being right, but at least I love you more, " Sherlock said. John blushed and kissed him lightly. He got closer and leaned into Sherlock. Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's shoulders and John cuddled into him even more. Sherlock's curls tickled John's ear and he smiled.

But the scene waiting for them, would make them drop all the mushy stuff and almost barf. But it would also disappoint all of them.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sherlock sat in his chair, analyzing the body in his mind. He added the hotel room to his mind palace. As well as the dead girl.

He remembered the cab ride there, then there was the entrance. The red carpet faded to pink, and the lighting was horrible. The blood on the wall, telling him to go to room one. Then the room, where she was.

Her face and how she had only knew eye because the other was in her long hair. Speaking of her hair, parts if it was cut off and scattered. She cared about it. Then her fingers were also on the floor, which brought him to the one she was forced to eat. He shuddered at that.

Then there was the fact that the one finger left on her hands was the one bearing her marriage and angagement rings. She was happily married for five years. Which brought him back to her face, she had stress lines, but no kids, so businesswoman. But she wanted kids.

Her husband was dead as well, which explains the cigarettes in her pocket. The box was only a few hours old, but there was only two left. Sherlock knows that feeling, cigarettes were what he quit a few years back. Sometimes he wished he could go back to them.

Anyway, back to this woman. She was blond with jade eyes, and she was pretty. But her throat was slit, which made them believe it was Jim. And he likes to remove fingers, that was also what told Sherlock it was Jim.

But, the only part he saw as strange, was the fact that her heart was gone. Nowhere to be found, and she couldn't have eaten it, like she did the finger, which was still gross.

Which then made Sherlock think it was someone else, or maybe something else... no that's just silly. No, someone did this. But why? That was the only other part that confused him. It was the missing heart and the missing reason. Hm... he went through it again. But he couldn't find anything about enemies tht she might have had.

That brought him back to Jim, but he would have appeared, wouldn't he? He hadn't yet. He didn't when the left the hotel, and he hadn't now that the were at the dorms again. So, if it wasn't Moriarty, then who? Was it just random? Or was it genius?

Well, she was married. Maybe someone got jealous? No, this doesn't make sense. Ah! Sherlock's brain hurt. He put his fingers this temple and breathed in and out heavily for a couple of breaths.

John shook is head and continued to look over his detective. He needs sleep, with John. He needs to relax, and just let the answer come to him. "Sherlock? Why don't you come to bed and we can figure this out tomorrow?" John asked his partner.

Sherlock looked at John, and sighed, "I guess. This just..." Sherlock didn't know how to admit that it confused him.

"Just relax. We'll solve it at some point, just not right away. Come on," John pulled Sherlock by his wrists and turned out the lights before he made Sherlock lay down finally sleep. "I love you, Sherlock."

He sighed, "I know, and that's why I love you too. It's dangerous, but it's true," Sherlock admitted. He kissed John's forehead and John snuggled into Sherlock. They fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep, by each other, and for the most part, happy.

John woke to Sherlock smiling at him. He looked up into Sherlock's eyes, under his curls tickling his forehead. "Hi," he smiled.

Sherlock smiled even more, "Hey," John kissed him lightly. Sherlock kissed John again and again and again... they enjoyed each other's warmth and company.

Then, they remembered,"Today's Saturday..." they smiled and John kissed Sherlock on the cheek. "Come on, let's get breakfast," John drug Sherlock from the warmth of their bed and to the bathroom. "Brush your fuckin' teeth and let's go." They did.

Sherlock dressed himself in a suit, but John didn't like that. "You want me to wear the jeans and the band tees all the time, don't you?" he asked his roomy.

John nodded furiously, "It's sexy and I like it," he stripped Sherlock of his shirt and pants, "Change, please?" He eyed the little blond beneath him.

Sherlock gave up and pulled out his favorite blue skinny jeans, and his Misfits band tee. John was pleased, "Later, I'll have to take that off, too," John laughed.

Sherlock was confused, then he wasn't. He smiled and kissed John, "I guess so," he liked that idea. Even though neither of them have been with a man, they still wanted to try each other. Maybe they could figure it out together. Like they do with almost everything else.

"But I'm hungry, let's go!" John pulled Sherlock out and down the sidewalk to his favorite breakfast place.

Sherlock was confused, this place was just another hole in the wall. But when Sherlock sat down to eat, he understood. The flavors exploded in his mouth and he loved it. The strawberry syrup and the fluff of the pancake underneath just made his morning. He usually doesn't eat while on a case, but he had to eat something before he died.

John loved that he could finally make Sherlock happy with something of his. But maybe he'll make Sherlock even happier later. Maybe.

John had started to fantasize when Sherlock interrupted to say, "What are you thinking about, John, that you are blushing like hell?" John looked at Sherlock's eyes, then his lips and blushed even harder.

Sherlock sighed and John's breath followed, "Sherlock, you have no idea what I'm gonna do to you," John was still blushing, and he made Sherlock blush with him.

Now it was Sherlock's turn to daydream. His blush went from pink to red within seconds. John laughed and Sherlock followed. They laughed until they couldn't breathe correctly. And even still, they tried.

When they did finally catch their breath, John paid and they walked back to the dorm room, holding hands and being happy. They joked and laughed, and they flirted and giggled, but they were happy and that was all that mattered to them.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"John, I am with you, I won't leave and I could never hate you, I love you," Sherlock admitted.

John blushed, "Sherlock, I will always be here, even if you hate me, I will love you and swallow my feelings to listen to yours, I love you," John said. They had spent hours doing this, just exchanging sweet dialogue that made both of them love each other even more.

John pressed hid forehead to Sherlock's. He was, after all, sitting on top of him on his bed. "Stop saying something so much better than mine. But, I guess I'll say it anyway: roses are red, violets are blue, I know it's dangerous to, but I love you." John blushed and kissed Sherlock passionately.

Sherlock's lips were so soft and John lingered on them before pulling back and sighing. Sherlock asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Actually, I was just thinking about something that would feel so right," John blushed lightly and he smiled. Sherlock knew exactly what John wanted, and he wanted it too, but, he had no idea what to do or how to even give it to him.

But that was okay, because John had no idea what to do either. Neither of them had ever been with a man, and Sherlock has just never been with anyone. Yeah he's kissed people before, but they didn't really matter, he never actually cared for them. He really cares for John and he doesn't want to seem like he doesn't.

But he also wants John under him, right now. He wants to just tear his clothes off and have him right then and there. And John wanted Sherlock so bad, they just had a sexual tension moment, and kissed each other again. This time, the kisses were hard and full of lust.

John pushed Sherlock down and straddled his hips, and started kissing Sherlock's smooth skin. First it was his lips, then his neck, to his shoulder and back to his lips. John's tongue demanded entrance to Sherlock's mouth and he was let in.

Sherlock still tasted sweet, yet not so much, and John still loved it. John also still tasted sweet, like candy. Sherlock loved it, and he couldn't not love it. And now, the taste of each other was their curse, because it only made them want even more.

John rubbed all of them together, from their groins to their chests. Sherlock gasped at how good he never thought that would feel. John let out a little moan, and nibbled Sherlock's earlobe. He licked the skin just under his ear and left a territorial love mark.

Sherlock got tired of this and kissed John under the jaw and on his neck and his cheek and anywhere else that was exposed. But he especially liked John's neck because there was this one spot, behind John's ear that made him make the cutest noise ever. It was like a moan, but more high pitched and it was adorable. It also only encouraged Sherlock to continue.

Sherlock switched their places and John was under Sherlock in a second. "John, are you sure about all this?" Sherlock was nervous.

John chuckled, "Sherlock, if I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be letting you do this," he explained to his not so sure detective. Sherlock smiled and nodded, and continued to kiss John's neck.

John's legs were still around Sherlock's hips, and Sherlock's hips rubbed against John's thighs, while Sherlock's groin was up against John's. John sucked in air through his teeth and moaned just barely loud enough Sherlock to hear. But Sherlock caught it and he liked it, so he continued to stay against John's body.

Sherlock pulled John's jumper over his head and pulled down the tee so that he could leave a love mark on John's shoulder. John's cheek rubbed against Sherlock's soft curls and he loved it. John's left leg stayed on Sherlock while his right foot made his right leg curve and stand up off the bed. He moaned even more when Sherlock kept rubbing all of them together.

Sherlock continued as John pulled Sherlock's tee over his head and on the floor it floated. Sherlock returned the favor and there they were on the floor. John licked Sherlock's chest, from nipple to nipple. And Sherlock felt it when John's saliva got cold. Sherlock shivered. John smiled at this, and continued to kiss Sherlock's chest and shoulders.

Sherlock licked from John's chest to his lips and started to pull on John's belt to remove it. It was one the floor and soon his jeans were also on the carpet. But John showed off and kissed from Sherlock's chest to the button of his pants and opened it with his teeth.

Show off, Sherlock thought, but was too turned on to complain about anything that John did to him. He pulled them down seductively and basically tortured Sherlock with kisses above the band of his underwear, and leaving a love mark, he came back to Sherlock's lips.

John just happened to be wearing his favorite red underwear that day, and Sherlock liked the color. He smirked and pulled them off. John was soft in all places and Sherlock now knew that. He stroked John's shaft and made circles around his head.

John stripped Sherlock of his underwear and was on top of him, but they fell the floor. Sherlock was now hurting in pleasure. John made circles over Sherlock's belly button and 'accidently' brushed the back of his fingers against Sherlock's penis.

He moaned and John grinned. The back of John's tongue hit Sherlock's stomach then his shaft and Sherlock gasped and grabbed the back of John's head. John took about half of Sherlock into his mouth and when he pulled off he made circles around Sherlock's head and hooked his teeth momentarily. Sherlock's deep voice was present as he moand John's name to him.

John was happy with this. He moved back up to Sherlock's lips and his tongue made and entrance in an effort to distract him from what John was doing below. He had Sherlock's left leg in his right hand and took full advantage of this position and situation.

This definitely caught Sherlock by surprise and he screamed a moan to his little blond soldier. Sherlock loved that John took advantage and manipulated him. Why, he had no idea, but he loved it.

John thrust inside him repeatedly and there were a few times where he pulled out slowly and slammed himself back in. And each time, Sherlock moaned louder, he even screamed once. He legitimately screamed. John liked this.

Soon enough, their climax was reached and sweat rolled off of them as they moaned louder and louder. They were sure someone else had heard them, possibly everyone in the dorm. But they didn't care.

Sherlock screamed one last time and came all over himself and John. John screamed inside of moaning Sherlock's name and came in Sherlock.

John pulled off and out of Sherlock. He rubbed Sherlock's cum off of himself with Sherlock's shirt and Sherlock didn't much care. He laid panting on the floor and couldn't catch his breath. "John, that was..." John hushed him. He didn't want Sherlock to pass out.

"It was nice, wasn't it?" Sherlock nodded. John then decided to ask, "Did it hurt?"

Sherlock finally had his breath, "At first, but you, John, are gifted. I love you," John laughed and kissed him. Guess the years of abuse finally paid off. He finally loves someone, for real. It's not just a mind game, it's true.

Sherlock jumped on top of John and kissed him over and over and they never wore clothes again for the rest of that night. They showered and didn't wear anything to bed, they didn't care anymore, it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that they had each other, and John's scar reminded Sherlock that it was possible that John could leave him. So he couldn't take this for granted.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A few days after John and Sherlock's situation, John was getting a little annoyed with Sherlock. Ever since then, he's been wanting sex almost anywhere they went. He even convinced John to do stuff in an alley, it's that bad. But he's been dealing with it because he needed it and Sherlock was new to this, and after a few more days, he'll stop. Or at least slow down. Hopefully. Honestly, John had no idea.

Now was knew of those situations, "Sherlock, stop," he giggled. John was trying to do his work and Sherlock kept torturing his neck with seductive kisses.

"But John, I need you. I need my little soldier. Please?" He kept kissing and hit that one spot behind John's ear.

"Sherlock," John whimpered, "later. I have to do this," he complained.

Sherlock stopped and sat on the bed and pouted. The he sighed and laid back into his sheets with his fingers laced and behind his head. John sighed at Sherlock and finished the last word. Then he dramatically pushed the chair out from under him and straddled Sherlock. He leaned over him and place his hands on either side of Sherlock's shoulders.

Sherlock grinned, "Hello. How are you, little soldier?"

"Depends, why am I your soldier?" He asked the burnett under him. Sherlock thought about it. Why was that?

Then he knew, "Because you're stronger than I am. And I love you as if you could leave me any day," he looked into his blond's eyes. Now John understood why there was lust tangled into his love. Because he doesn't want John to leave him. Moriarty scared Sherlock, and now he won't let go, for fear that John will slip. John almost cried at this realisation. But he just sat up and stared at Sherlock, wide eyed in shock.

Sherlock was confused. What did he do? John stuttered, "Sh. Huh, Sherlock. That's. Wow, I didn't know and now I feel stupid." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

He sat up and met John, "It's because you are. Just not as much as other people," Sherlock always insults yet compliments John.

"Way to ruin a moment, ass," John laughed softly. He was used to it now, but he still teased Sherlock for it. Sherlock blushed and kissed John lightly. There were so many kisses until Sherlock got a text. He pulled his cell out and looked at it. Jim: I know something u don't know! Come find me. At the park, love u... -M. Why does he always act like he's gay for Sherlock? It's weird.

John didn't like it, either. He read the text upside down and he didn't like this. But they left anyway. Sherlock slipped his hoodie over his head and he put his phone back in his pocket. He took John's hand and they were outside.

The only nearby park Sherlock knew was the one down and the street from their school and it's most likely that Jim was talking about that one. Sherlock lead John there, since John was too lazy to lead himself. But he was thinking about Sherlock's feelings at that moment in time.

Honestly, Sherlock's feelings were everywhere. He loved John and lusted for John, but he hated his own existence and wished that he hadn't met John so he could just end it and let no one care. But now there's John, and he loved him, but. Still, he didn't want to be here. He knew that his brother wouldn't care and his parents wouldn't be surprised. But he didn't want to hurt John.

He was actually going to commit his suicide when he got to college, but then he met John and he couldn't. It was as if he knew he'd fall in love with him. It was a weird day, and it's still weird with John. Sherlock will just never get over his urge to pick up a gun and put a bullet through his high functioning fucking brain.

Of course, John has no idea about any of this. Sherlock just hopes John doesn't find the poems and short stories he wrote. Then he'd really be fucked and he'd have to reveal everything then. But Sherlock is safe with that, for now.

They found this park and Sherlock was right. Of course he was. Moriarty was sitting on a swing, "Strange, isn't it? The whole world ignores the children until they become adults. No wonder so many teens," he stared Sherlock in the eyes, "want to kill themselves."

Great, so now his weird gay lover knows about his suicidal tendencies. Then he probably also knows about the drug addiction he had for a year and a half. This just makes things even more... interesting. Sherlock smiled and sat on the swing beside him.

John follows and put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. Then he pulls himself over Sherlock as if he was Sherlock's hood, he crosses his arms around his neck and rests his chin on Sherlock's curls.

Jim noticed everything about them and now he knows everything about their relationship. Now this was really getting good. Especially with what Moriarty has in store for John, and then what John will find later. "So, why are we here?" John asked the suit in the swing next to them.

He giggled, "I just wanted to tell you that the little blond is yours. She's waiting for you, and you'll get s fun surprise from Sherlock later," he said all of this to the doctor draped over the detective.

He left the swing and walked away, " Chao!" he waved and continued walking.

John left Sherlock's shoulders and Sherlock stood. They took each other's hands and started thinking, "the little blond," is it? No, she's dead. John knows that for sure. So then who could it possibly fucking be?

Sherlock thought about this as well. Who could possibly be waiting for them? Was it Mary? No, it couldn't be. But then who? They both thought this through as they walked back holding hands and getting dirty looks but not caring, or in Sherlock's case, not even noticing.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

John and Sherlock were standing in the doorway, confused. John even rubbed his eyes, to make sure this wasn't a dream or he wasn't hallucinating.

Sherlock walked in and closed the door behind him. John sat in his chair, opposite of the blond in Sherlock's chair. He still couldn't believe it, who would? Sherlock could barely believe it himself. Until he started analyzing her features and deducing what kind of person she was.

John couldn't stop himself from being pissed, but who wouldn't be? your girlfriend has to leave, and then you get a note from her parents that she's dead, then she appears in your dorm room. yeah, he had a right to be pissed at Mary. "I loved you, and you made me believe that you were dead. Why? I don't care how, I want to know why?" John couldn't contain this question anymore.

She was at a loss for an answer that wouldn't make her sound crazy. She opened her mouth to tell the truth, but she then closed it and came to tears. She couldn't tell them without them not believing her. She bowed her head as tears hit the hands folded in her lap. John felt sorry for her, but not as much as he would if she hadn't faked her death. She still couldn't get words to come to her. she was also becoming breathless, from holding her breath.

Sherlock decided to take over this situation, "John?" John hummed he was listening to Sherlock, "Could you get milk? We're out. I'll talk to Mary for you. Please?" John gave in and stood from the chair he used as an excuse to stare at Mary with.

"I'll be back. Sherlock, don't make her more hurt than she already is." He nodded and left. While he was gone, Sherlock started thinking of ways to ask her what happened, without hurting her.

"Mary?" he asked softly. She nodded and sniffled as she listened for what he was to say next, "Could you please tell me what happened? I swear not to laugh, and I swear to believe you," he got down on his knees in front of her and grabbed her hands. John had taught him that if you make eye contact with the other person, they'll be more open, and they'll trust you more.

She finally let go of her breath and sucked in a longer breath, "Are you sure you'll believe me?" Sherlock nodded, he could believe anything, especially with his past.

So she told him. Everything. "I'm a Wolf, and I'm running from Vampyres." Sherlock's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything as she continued, "I had to get away from Moriarty," figures. "He's been hunting us down, and I've been trying to avoid him for so long." More tears came and she couldn't really say much more. And Sherlock didn't want to make her say anything more. "You don't believe me, do you?"

Sherlock shook his head, "No, I do. But I have nothing to do with it. Even though, and don't tell John this, but I am a Vampyre. But I drink animal blood, and every time John and I do something, I resist the urge to drink from him and it hurts, but him being there helps." Sherlock chuckled softly, "As a matter of fact, after the first time, I could barely breathe, he just has that effect on people. I don't know why his past is so dark. Do you?" Sherlock was way off topic, but this was John.

Mary's tears were gone and she was smiling, "This is John. He is an amazing person, and I honestly don't know why people hate him for it. Maybe it's because they're jealous that they can't be him?" she shrugged, and Sherlock took John's chair.

She looked up at him and her smile became bigger. "Perhaps. Do you still love him?" Sherlock had to ask.

She shook her head, "I don't know. I've had so much lately, that I might not have loved him in the first place. Honestly, I have no idea, " she really didn't. So now they both had no idea. John was so lovable, and he could love you without you telling him to. He was also attractive, which made him irresistible, at least Sherlock thought.

"I just don't get it, he so full of love and so lovable," Sherlock shook his head slowly, "I'll never understand the people of this world." Sherlock was admitting this to her, why? He had no idea.

"So, you won't try to kill me?" she asked, nervous now that she knew what he was.

Sherlock shook his head, "Why would I? I have no personal reason, so I have no reason. I don't get into politics," he waved his hand to dismiss its existence to him.

"Even if I'm the most wanted? For murder?" Sherlock perked up and stared at her. Murder?! Ooh!.

"Tell me more," he smiled. She laughed and considered this.

She nodded, "Well, this Vamp tried to rape me, and I killed him. They said it was unjustified, but it was an accident. I swear, I pushed him and he fell, that wasn't my fault." Sherlock sat back in John's chair and posed the way he always does when thinking: as if he was praying, but we all know he isn't.

"How did he fall? Were you on a building?" he asked. She nodded, "Why?"

She explained, "I ran up to my apartment, but he followed me, so I ran up the stairs to the roof, where he still followed. So when he tried to grab me again, I pushed him off and over the edge he went. The court is trying to say I did it on purpose. I didn't," she looked Sherlock in the eyes, and this told him she had nothing to hide.

"So, he tried to rape you, and you accidently killed him?" Sherlock asked, to get things straight, and for her to admit it. She nodded, "Did you know him?" she nodded and was going to say how when Sherlock already knew, "Ex boyfriend?" she bowed her head and nodded, "Drunk?" she nodded again. "Then, there's no court case. Why do they care? They usually don't," he tried to reason with their choices.

She looked back up, "This is a time of war, and everyone is getting emotional. The woman who saw it, said I did it on purpose, 'from what she could see'. Bullshit! It was a fucking accident!" she stood and yelled at Sherlock, or so it seemed, but really she was yelling at who she wanted to.

"I believe you, I just wish they did." That was when John walked in and put way the milk he had bought. Sherlock looked at him and smiled. John's smile reflected Sherlock's. he smiled at Mary, who smiled at her recent ex, who she wished wasn't.

"So, can you tell me why?"John asked. Mary looked at Sherlock and he shrugged.

She looked to John, "You wouldn't believe me. but-" she looked to Sherlock again, "I'm running from the Vampyre Court."

John's eyes widened, "What did you do?" WHAT?! Wait, he's…? No! "I'm a…" he sighed, "I'm Vampyre. I don't get into this kind of thing, but what did you do?" Sherlock was shocked, he thought John was innocent and human. Well, this explains why the relationship has been full of mutual lust.

"Supposedly, I murdered a Vampyre, and for a Wolf to do that, it means death. But I didn't," and she explained the story to John, and Sherlock listened for the second time. She finished with, "Do you believe me that it was an accident?"

John nodded, "Some of my kind can't control themselves," he faked a cough, "Sherlock." Sherlock looked at John in surprise, "Oh, yes. I know. Did you really think I wouldn't find out? It changes nothing, but still. Come on," he tilted his head and Sherlock nodded as a huge grin spread across his pale face, and his cheeks were tinted pink.

Mary spoke to break the silence, "Well, you two really are together, then?" they nodded, confused. "I thought John was straight?" she raised her eyebrows at John.

"I was, but. I don't know, Sherlock just changed everything I guess. I still feel attracted to women, but I love him. It's weird," he admitted.

Sherlock's pink turned red, "Yes, I turned him. Then again, I had no idea what I was. There was even a time I believed I was bisexual. Maybe I am, I don't know. All I know is that I love John," he made his red scarlet and John blushed as well.

Mary's smile went to an open mouthed, "Aaawww! You two are so cute!" John blushed even harder. Then she tilted her head at John, "Who was on top?" they looked t her, bewildered.

John cleared his throat, "Ummmmmm WHAAAAAA!"she looked at him, and she knew better. Sherlock smiled at John and he sighed, "No one. It's pretty even with that one. But Sherlock wants to try to dominate that, too. Like he does with every fucking thing else." They continued with this for some time…


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

John still couldn't believe that Mary was alive, and a Wolf! Why was he always out of the loop in everything? Then there's Sherlock, the bloody arse is a Vampyre! Why didn't he know? How could he have not seen this?

But Sherlock still couldn't believe he hadn't deduced that John was a Vamp. He guessed that he just hadn't seen it coming. He thought John was just a broken human. But this explains how he's even alive, because if he had been human, he would have offed himself a long time ago, but Vamps have a high pain tolerance, in all areas.

By the way, Vampyres and Wolves and any other supernatural thing besides Demons and Angels, can and sometimes and do kill themselves. And the stake thing, yeah that only works because it would kill anyone. A Vamp can be killed just the same as humans. Though the blow has to be more powerful (like if they jumped off a building, they would have to jump higher) but they would still die. Actually, the stake legend came from another one with necromancy, when you raise the dead, to kill them you had to stake them back to their coffins. And it works, but that's not the point.

Anyway, there are special ways that work better, but if you really wanted the job done, you could kill a Vamp through human ways. And another thing, Wolves are not Werewolves, there is a difference because Werewolves eat humans' hearts and Wolves just turn. This breed was made when a Were and a human mated and *pop* there was a Wolf.

Wait… that means. Sherlock finally got it! "Moriarty is a Werewolf! God, why didn't I see this before?!" he looked to John, "You," he kissed him, "you are amazing! Yes!" he was excited to meet one, because they are after all, going extinct. And, and, oh! This explains why Moriarty was murdering those people, and with the last two decided to give up and eat something. And the extinction is because Hunters of every race are after them, many don't like them. Sherlock just doesn't care. All he cares about is the cases and murders/murderers.

Anyway, back to the current case(s), John was bewildered, "What did I do?" he eyed Sherlock.

"Thinking about you, then everything else made me realize what I couldn't. all this time I thought you were a distraction, but no," he laughed, "You were just what I needed," he kissed him again.

Then he grabbed his cell and bent over it to text: _Come out and play, won't you? ;)_ to _Jim… _he also sent the address of the park he met with them before. "Let's go, John! Mary?" he grabbed John's hand and was ready to leave when he asked again, "Mary? Are you coming?" she was staring at the floor, then looked up and nodded. She tried to smile, but couldn't at the realization that Jim was a Were. This just made everything weirder.

But everything getting weirder is what Watson and Holmes loved. So there was all three of them, running to the park, which reminded John of being a little kid again, running to the park, holding the hand of the person you love most. It was heaven, or wherever else they go when they die… no one knows where the paranormal go when they die.

There's speculation that they go to Purgatory or just Hell, but no one knows for sure. Sherlock wished he did, but he doesn't.

He found the park, and there was Moriarty on the swing again, and again, Sherlock took the one beside him, "So?" he asked the curly haired detective.

"I know what you are, and it's… this just keeps getting better," he smirked at the criminal mastermind sitting beside him on the swings. John again wrapped himself around Sherlock like a scarf, he put his arms around his shoulders and rested his chin on his curls, his soft and dreamy curls.

He couldn't help when he kissed the top of Sherlock's head, just to feel more of the silk Sherlock called his hair. Jim smiled and said to the blonds and the burnet, "Does it? I'm glad. But that also means you know how much risk I take meeting you here, or anywhere else for that matter."

Sherlock nodded and with him, John did as well, "Oh, I know, which makes you more intriguing. Because, why would you risk your life for a strange Vamp who could kill you here and now? Or he could let someone else kill you," Sherlock was talking about the fact that Moriarty liked to flirt. A lot.

John grinned at this, he knew exactly what Sherlock was getting at, "It just sounds interesting. A lot more than school work that's for sure," Jim came back with this, and threw it in for Sherlock to think about.

"Mm, true. But wouldn't you rather risk your life for love than for 'something interesting'?" Sherlock asked.

"I am incapable of love. I hate the word," he tried to hide it, but knew it was coming out. The dark of the night made it worse. He loves the dark, and having his love interest in the dark was one of his fantasies. Sadly, this is not how he imagined it would go.

"So you just enjoy flirting with my boyfriend whenever, then?" John asked the suit in the swing next to them. Mary, all the while, was watching and thinking about how funny this all really is. You have a detective and a doctor being admired by a criminal. Is she the only one thinking that a three way could happen any day now?

Jim cleared his throat, "I like flirting, yes. And it's fun because Sherlock gives the most interesting of responses," he grinned at John and Sherlock suddenly felt guilty.

Yes, he had responded to Moriarty's flirting, and he liked to flirt back, but it wasn't as fun as it was with John. With John he actually loves him, with Jim it was just… interestingly fun. "So, the bodies. Why had you not eaten them as well as the others?" Sherlock had to ask.

"Well, because I didn't feel hungry. And I wanted you to play the bloody game, literally," he smiled and Sherlock grinned.

John knew that Moriarty was just trying to push buttons, because he had seen Sherlock flirt with Jim and he didn't care because he knows that Sherlock loves John and only him. "You two flirt like you're still in high school, but I really don't care, besides, why Sherlock? Aren't there some number of women or men, if that's your thing," (it's mine), "that would flirt with and sleep if you if you just batted an eyelash at them?" John still wouldn't let it go.

Maybe he was jealous? Moriarty's response to John's question was rather weird, "I like detectives. And I like blood, and Vamps are buried in bloodlust," he smiled at John. "What about you, Little Blond? Vamps are fun, are they not?" he leaned forward to address Mary.

She smiled, "They are good lovers. Even the detective will agree with me on that," she nodded and Sherlock blushed slightly. He would agree to that. John was a little embarrassed that he had slept with both of the people on his side. But he had loved Mary, and he loved Sherlock.

Moriarty smiled, "You are quite the little manwhore aren't you?" he teased.

"He's had many lovers, but it doesn't mean he's incapable of love. He's just fine," Sherlock defended his soldier and the little doctor blushed.

"Whatever you say," Jim stood, "but I have things to do tomorrow, so I'll see you later," he started to walk away, "Laterz!" he yelled.

Sherlock looked up to John and he settled his lips on Sherlock's. Mary held back the urge to squeal in awe. But she kept it in, because they would only split if she screamed.

But when they parted, "Tired," Sherlock complained, "and the plot thickens. I need sleep and then to think," he kissed John lightly and he stood. They did eventually go home. But it was what was found in the dorm that bewildered them, especially John…


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

John, Sherlock and Mary returned to the dorm room and needed sleep. John was dressed in his PJs and Sherlock was wearing that stupid robe and just some sweats and no shirt.

Mary just stripped to her underwear and that was what she slept in. John had already seen her naked and Sherlock didn't care. Mary slept in John's bed, because the Vamps don't really sleep separately anymore. Plus, John liked Sherlock's bed more, for some reason it was more comfortable and warm than his own.

Mary didn't mind John's bed, she slept there before anyway. but this time, she felt lonely. She really wanted John to cuddle up with her and tell her he loved her, but she couldn't have him anymore. She cried at this. She was as hoping they didn't hear her, and they didn't. but John did. Sherlock was already asleep on John, but John heard Mary's sobs in the night.

He hated that he had feelings. He hated that he wanted to cuddle her until she stopped, but he couldn't really do that. Could he? He sat up and Sherlock wrapped his around his waist, "Mary?"

She sniffled and wiped her nose, "Yes, John?"

"What's wrong?" even though he knew.

"Nothing. I'm fine," she tried to tell him.

"No," he got up and away from Sherlock who took the pillow in place of John's hips, "you're not," he sat on the bed beside her.

She rolled over to meet his eyes, "Just go to sleep, I am fine."

"Ok," as she rolled back over, he climbed in behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay, just sleep." She smiled through the new tears that streaked her cheeks. John's finger went through her hair and he kept whispering that, "It's okay. I'm here now, sh."

She finally fell asleep wrapped in John's arms, where she felt the safest.

Although, that morning was very strange. John expected to wake up to an angry Sherlock, but instead he woke up to someone cuddled up to him from behind. He still held Mary, so who…? Sherlock?

John wiggled an arm from around Mary and felt for the person behind him, it was Sherlock! He felt the curls, then his cheeks, and his shoulders, yep. It was Sherlock.

Sherlock woke up to John with his hand in his curls, "John? Wh-?" then he remembered. He kissed John on the cheek and held him tighter.

Then Mary woke and looked behind her to find John and then Sherlock right behind him, "Ah!" she stumbled out of the bed and fell to the floor. John sat up to see if she was okay.

He poked his head over the edge of the bed, and Sherlock followed, laying on top of John, "You okay?" they asked in unison.

She nodded, "Yeah, just. How did Sherlock get here? In the bed, with us?" she asked John.

He shrugged, "I don't know. I fell asleep a few seconds after you did. How did you get over here?" he asked the detective stacked on top of him.

"I found out you had left my arms and found you over here, so I just joined you. I knew then that Mary needed comfort and you had come to help. I'm not mad, like you think I would have been. Unless you want me to get pissed?" Sherlock went through the events of last night again, and nodded.

John shook his head, "No. Just, I don't know. What time is it?" he asked the man on top of him. Sherlock rolled off of John as he sat up and looked at his clock, he had two hours until he had to leave for class. "I've got two hours, and when I'm gone, don't be mean to Mary like you were to me," he said to his idiot.

"Fine. Whatever," he got up and pulled some clothes out for John, but before he could stand up straight again, John was behind him. He bent to meet Sherlock's face, and grabbed his arse, "John," Sherlock sighed, "Stop it." Mary had just now stood up, and looked at what was going on. She giggled.

John made Sherlock look at him and John slammed their lips together. They both stood and John stole the clothes from Sherlock. Then Sherlock went to get his own. He decided to defy what John liked and wore a suit.

But this time, he didn't complain, because Sherlock is sexy in whatever. Besides, he was wearing John's favorite button- up shirt: the purple one aka The Purple Shirt of Sex.

The two hours had passed and Mary was dressed because she had washed and dried her clothing, and in the mean time, she was wearing John's sweats. But now she was wearing her own clothes. John gave Sherlock a butterfly kiss on the lips and Mary a kiss on her forehead and was about to leave.

But Sherlock stopped him, "You call that a kiss?" John shrugged. Sherlock rolled his eyes at John and kissed him passionately. John melted into it at first, but then remembered he had class and left Sherlock's lips, "Bye, John." Sherlock leaned his hip on the doorframe and waved, while grinning at John.

John just rolled his eyes and walked down the hall, his shoulder bag hitting his leg, because he never wore it correctly. He didn't like to. He thought it made him look like a father and he doesn't like to look like he has children, especially with having a boyfriend.

Back in the dorm, Sherlock and Mary had struck up conversation, "So, how often do you feed?" she had asked.

"Well, I don't know about John but I eat once a week, while I also eat human food. Sometimes," he shrugged.

She nodded, "You don't need much blood, do you?" he shook his head and his lips curled into a 'not really' frown.

"Where do you get it from?" she asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "From the butcher down the street, why? That was kind of a stupid question," Sherlock didn't mean to be like this, but he just doesn't like people. Supernatural or not, he doesn't like socializing.

But Mary knew this and didn't take much offense when he called her question stupid, "So, what about John?"

"What about John?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her.

"Come on, finding him cuddled up next to me, you had to be pissed or jealous or something?" she eyed him as well.

He shrugged and resumed his usual face: blank. "No. John cares and I know that he would never cheat on me. but his kindness got the best of him last night, that's all." Was it? Honestly, Sherlock was a little pissed, but it was only at the fact that he had left his bed in the first place, not that he was cuddled up next to Mary. He trusted her, and she wouldn't do that.

He had even heard her say last night for John to just go back to bed, so Sherlock knew. the only way John would ever (no offense to Mary) sleep with her again, is if he was drunk (yes, supernatural creatures can get drunk too, including Demons and Angels), and John hasn't had a drink in a long time, so Sherlock really didn't need to worry. Did he?

He really didn't want to, so he didn't. They just sat there then, thinking about what they could possibly say next. Then Sherlock got a text, _Bored? :P_ –M

He responded: _Maybe. What could you do to fix that?_- SH

_There are many things I could do, but why don't you just come and play for a little while? _- M

Sherlock sighed in frustration: _Fine. Be there in a few… _- SH

And Sherlock left with his coat and scarf around him. "Be back in a little. Maybe," he winked at her and closed the door behind him. He knew this was wrong, but he secretly hoped he could flirt with Jim for forever. He liked that someone admired him besides John. It reminded him that he did have some things about him that were good.

Plus, he just liked being loved. Especially after what almost happened before John had unknowingly saved him from death. But this, he will never tell John. Except for when John was there when he went back.

Sherlock still had half an hour until he had to leave for class. But he never expected, "John? What are you doing here?"

John looked up from what Sherlock recognized as his writing. Damn it! "Our teacher is dead, but Sherlock?" John was used to the dead bodies by now. "Why didn't you tell me you felt any of this?"

Sherlock threw his coat and scarf on the floor and sat down on the edge of his bed, "Because it's in the past and I don't feel that way anymore. Why, what would you care if I still felt that way?" Sherlock's eyes begged John not to care and just drop it.

But he didn't, "Sherlock, this… fine. I won't talk about this, but… it just hurts to know that you hurt. That's all. I mean you saw what I did to Mary and that was only because she was crying," John put the writing down on the table again.

Mary walked in on this moment, "What'd I miss?" she closed the door. "I leave to use the restroom and you two almost come to tears over each other?" she scoffed, "Fantastic."

Sherlock looked down at the hands folded in his lap and almost did cry. But it was had happened afterwards that made everyone forget the writing entirely…


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

John and Sherlock were staring each other down when Mary said randomly, "Guys, I have to go do something real quick. I'll be back, okay?" and she left the boys staring at each other. But they were both confused about why she was leaving.

They both watched her leave, and then they looked back to each other. John and Sherlock's brows were knitted in confusion, "What do you think she's doing?" John asked the detective.

"I'm not sure, do you want to find out?" Sherlock's eyes lit up at the thrill of secrecy, but John put him down.

"No, I want to find out other things," and the curiosity was replaced with concern for Sherlock's emotions.

"You really are boring sometimes, you know that?" Sherlock complained but got no response.

"Do you still feel this way, Sherlock? As if 'the bullet would be the only salvation' for you?" John had quoted one of the lines from one of Sherlock's well written but still ever so depressing poems.

Sherlock suddenly became defensive, as he always does with his feelings, "So what if I do? You can't change that. I've always felt that way," he mumbled and bowed his head once more as tears hit his hands.

"Sherlock," John left his chair and was on his knees in front of the crying man. He placed his left hand to Sherlock's cheek and his right to Sherlock's wrists, "Why do you feel like this? What did I do? Or not do?" John didn't think this was his fault, but you can never be too sure. John has caused many problems, or so he thought.

But what Sherlock said next had made him realize that this had nothing to do with him, "No, it's not you. it's my past, it never left and I don't think it will. Like I said, you can't change this, you can only slightly alter it," Sherlock let more tears fall, and they hit John's hand as well as his own.

"What about your past? Was it becoming a Vampyre? Or what?" John asked. He knows he regrets becoming Vamp. Eating your family has its effects, and the whore that turned him he definitely regrets. He still hates that her blood is in his now.

But then, as always, Sherlock gave an unexpected answer, "Both. But mostly the 'or what'. But if you re-"

"No," John cut him off, "You can tell me and cry on me, or you can suck it up and move and never let me know. What shall it be, Sherlock?" he knew it sounded harsh, but this was how you get people to tell you what they felt. You basically order them to.

Sherlock sighed and dried as much of the tears as he could, "It was that day, and the murders afterwards. All that I've done, all the lives I've taken. It's why I don't deserve my own breath. It's why you shouldn't love me the way you do."

John sighed and let one tear fall, "What you've done, is in the past and it will never happen again. Not as long as I'm around. I love you, and if your past is a part of you, I love that, too."

"But, you see. My 'brother' is the Vamp that turned me, and I still treat him as a brother. I still would go back to murder if I had to, that's what I can't live to do," Sherlock made his point and John didn't like this.

"Would you go back willingly? Or would you have to go kicking and screaming?" John had to ask. He already knew the answer, though.

"I would willingly go back to it. Because I enjoyed it. I regret it, but in the moment I love it, and I…" he started sobbing again, and couldn't finish anything he started to say.

"You love it?" John asked, and Sherlock nodded, "More than me?" this caught Sherlock by surprise. "If you had a choice between me or that, what would you choose?"

Sherlock didn't have to think about it, "You, in a heartbeat. But-"

"But nothing. As long as I am here and alive, you will never do it again, do you hear me? I love you too much to let you do anything that would hurt you," John's eyes searched Sherlock's for something to show him that Sherlock understood.

"You're stubborn. You say you love me, but why? What is so lovable about a monster who hides his feelings in lust?" Sherlock still hated himself too much for John to change, yet.

"You didn't hide them. you wrote them and tried to forget them, which is why I love you." John made Sherlock look at him through his tears, "Because you tried to make those feeling leave. You tried to make yourself love something else. And do you?" John asked the still crying burnett.

"Do I what, John?" he was too occupied with this moment to think straight.

"Do you love something else? Or maybe someone else? More than what you had before?" John asked what he had earlier just in a different way, and he knew this would take a little while.

He knew that when Sherlock opens up, it takes a while to calm him. "I love you. So much more than my past. So much more than murder. Before I met you, that was all I clung to, was solving murder cases because I used to create them," he was starting to get away from the tears, but just barely.

"See? There are so many good things that come from what you think was horrible," John tried to console him.

"It was horrible! I'm horrible! John, why don't you see?!" he threw John's hands from himself and he curled into a ball of tears on his bed. "I'm worse than Jim," he whispered to John.

John climbed onto the bed behind Sherlock and wrapped himself around the detective, "No one is worse than him, and you are not a monster. You are a person. A person that makes my passion burn hotter than ever before. Makes me get butterflies when I think it isn't even possible to. You make me think I don't deserve you, and I feel selfish every time we make love because I don't deserve to have the love of someone like you," John admitted to Sherlock.

"Someone like me?" he sniffled.

"Yes," John nodded into his soft curls, "Someone who is so amazingly interesting. Someone who needs someone better than I, but here I am anyway."

Sherlock's tears stopped and he rolled over into John, "No! You, John deserve someone who isn't broken like I am, 'someone better than I, but here I am anyway.' you are the intriguing one and the one who is so full of love that I feel guilty for stealing you from someone who needs you more," Sherlock stared hard into John's beautiful blue eyes.

John smiled, "You need me. and here I am, and here I will stay," Sherlock smiled and one last tear fell.

John wiped the last tear from existence and kissed the detective lightly. And when Mary returned this is what she walked in on.

But she didn't say anything, as a matter of fact, the boys noticed that she looked guilty. Like she had done something she highly disapproved of, but still felt it was right. Or better than doing nothing. And that was how she felt.

And in a few more minutes, the boys will find out why…


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

John walked up the stairs of the flat of 221B Baker Street, and regretted still that night from a year ago. As a matter of fact it was a year ago exactly.

He sat in his chair and thought it through. Sherlock followed and sat on the couch. He hung his coat and scarf. John and Sherlock had grown apart. The relationship sort of faded. They both still had raging feelings, but they didn't know what to do after that night. After all that death while they were together, they couldn't handle it. But they stayed friends.

Yes, John remembered it well. they had got up from the bed to ask Mary what was bothering her so much, when Moriarty had come running in the door, "Sherlock!" he hugged him tightly and didn't let go as he sobbed into Sherlock's shirt. They were all confused.

"Jim? What the Hell?" Sherlock consoled him anyway, but had so many questions. He looked to Mary, who looked to the floor.

They had finally got Moriarty to calm down and closed the door, when he said, "They're coming to kill me, and will murder anyone who gets in their way. Which means if you don't let them kill me, they'll kill you as well," he said.

"Then why did you run to me?" Sherlock asked. Why would he run to the one he seemed to care about most.

"I wanted to say goodbye. Before they-" and two men burst through the door wielding weapons. Moriarty nodded, "Goodbye."

"No!" Sherlock jumped in front of Moriarty, and when John drug him from his position in front of Moriarty, Sherlock was shot in the shoulder, "Ah!" John kneeled over his detective in pain.

John left Sherlock's side to try to get to the man that shot him, his fangs were out and he was about to kill someone. But Mary had momentarily stopped him, and in her head a bullet was placed. "Mary!" now he had a better reason to kill both of them. the anger boiled over and the lid flew off. And in this case this lid was John and he hit the first man.

He came after the one who shot Sherlock and ripped his throat open, while the other placed two bullets in John, one in his right shoulder and the other in his right leg. This didn't stop him, right away anyway. He drank the first man dry and was going for the second when the pain caught up to him, and he fell to the floor. "John!" Sherlock managed to scream, "Ah!"

But the man finally got what he wanted and shot Jim in the forehead. He fell to the floor as John was full of fresh rage and it made him almost invincible. While Sherlock watched, he saw John leap up and grab the other man from behind, and then there was crimson and Sherlock wanted it so bad. He wanted it to heal him, but then again not.

But he couldn't even get up. Somehow, this pain was what he wanted, but he also wanted it to just fade. Which is why he wanted the blood.

John remembered kneeling before Mary, covered in blood, and was unsure what was his and what wasn't. As he sobbed, the anger left and he fell, curled into a ball of pain, beside Mary. "Sherlock?" he could barely whisper, "Mary? No…" his body rocked from all the pain and anger. His physical pain and his emotional pain made his tears run like a waterfall down his red cheeks.

The next thing he knew was waking up in a bed at the hospital with Sherlock beside him in another. He was still groggy while he pieced together what had happened. Then he remembered perfectly. Too well, in fact and he sobbed again. He just let it flow and hit the pillow below his head.

"John?" Sherlock tried to sit up, but failed too. And this was all that John wanted to remember. After that, though, Sherlock had grown apart from John. His excuse was that he just didn't love him anymore. But that was such a lie. He loved John just as much as ever, maybe even more now.

And John's excuse to himself was that he and Sherlock was just another pairing that was bound to break up at some point. But he still loved the detective. He hated that he did, but it was true. So they both sat, scarred for life and wishing they could hold each other.

Sherlock had become a consulting detective now, and he got paid for what he does. And John got a job at Bart's. He enjoys it, but not as much as he would if he could stop thinking about Sherlock.

And Sherlock never stops thinking about cuddling up to John at night, and how he missed John's warmth on his front side and sometimes behind him. They both hated that they weren't together, but they both thought that the other had simply moved on. "Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock asked the doctor.

"I…" he wanted to say it so badly, but didn't know what would happen if he did. Would Sherlock accept him back, or would it just get awkward? He decided he didn't care anymore. He wanted it out, and if Sherlock doesn't like it, he can leave, "I love you."

Sherlock stared at John and his usually blank face went to a sad one, "John? I… you do?" John nodded, "Well, I hope you know that I never got over us, and I love you, too." John's eyes widened. Really?

"The truth is, that I didn't want us to be together because when we are, the bodies pile up too high," John finally fucking admitted to Sherlock.

"Fuck, um John? I felt the same. But I realized that those days are over, and our years of torture are gone. We're finally completely alone," this was just getting weird. Sherlock hadn't said sweet things to John in so long, it felt weird now. And as a matter of fact, Sherlock was planning to this moment. He sorta deduced this was going to happen.

And he had a surprise for John when he finally opened up to Sherlock again. He stood from the couch and what John hadn't noticed before was that Sherlock was wearing skinny jeans and a tee again. John loved it. Sherlock was on one knee in front of John and from his pocket he pulled out something.

He had it bunched up in his pale fist and wouldn't show John until he got his question out of his mouth. This took so much courage that Sherlock was shaking when he took John's left hand in his right. "John?" John nodded that he was listening.

"Sherlock, just say it, whatever 'it' is. Just get it over with." John almost smiled at Sherlock's foreign touch.

Sherlock nodded as his mouth suddenly went dry, and he had a knot in his throat as well as butterflies in his stomach. "John Hamish Watson? Will you marry me?" the ring came from his left fist and John stared at the gold in between Sherlock's fingers.

"Sherlock?" Sherlock nodded that he was listening. John looked into those eyes he loved so much, "I've wanted this so much and I have to say 'yes'." Sherlock slid the ring on John's finger and, "I love you," John said as Sherlock jumped up and placed his lips on John's.

"I love you, too." And they continued kissing because it felt so lost and with each kiss the love, the passion and the lust flooded back into the relationship they had temporarily lost.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: With this chapter it is literally all smut and I'm trying a new writing style that sounds more poetic, so I hope you enjoy it!**

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Chapter 17

Kiss, kiss and kiss, drowning in what used to be and is now flourishing back. John felt as if he were a flower that had died in the winter, and the snow that had stung his pedals now turned to rays of sunlight, and beat down on him and with each ray of sun (kiss left on his tingling skin), it got hotter. A lot hotter.

The lust washed over them as a replenishing rain they hadn't felt in so long that now they were drowning in it. The gold on John was so new and felt so right when he twirled it round and round on his finger, as the kisses went lower and lower.

From his neck to his shoulder, which was blocked by a shirt, this shirt then removed and gracefully floated to the new floor they had only seen twice so far. The soft detecting lips were back on his tan and wanting skin and he let slip a moan that could be heard as a whisper only.

He grabbed at anything and everything for this to stop, but it didn't. And in this process, John's hands were placed on Sherlock, John's right to his bum and his left to Sherlock's mop of silk he calls curls. He tugs on the curls ever so slightly and a moan can be heard from those soft lips, and it radiates off John's tan skin, and in return he sighed at how right that felt.

John's teeth brush against Sherlock's pale neck and he bites down just enough to leave the smallest of a mark, but not enough to hurt the detective sitting on top of him. He still leaves apologetic saliva over the dent he made on his lover's perfect skin.

But then his eyes fall to the scar left on his burnett a year ago, even that, on this body, is perfect. He kisses this scar lightly and Sherlock's breath on John's shoulder encourages him to go farther down, to the partially exposed skin under his tee. He wanted to see more of it, and on the floor was the shirt of Sherlock's.

John finally saw more of his skin and he smiled gently. Sherlock was getting just a little bit harder by the second as John took his time, and kissed Sherlock's shoulder, the his pecks, and one by one he eliminated the soft spots he knew were on Sherlock. The one at the nape of his neck, then the other just above his left nipple, and the last: in the middle of his pecks, his tongue was placed ever so gently and Sherlock's erection popped up as much as it could with being contained. He moaned at this sudden turn on (pun intended) his sensations.

But Sherlock returned the favor for his little soldier. He got the two places he knew would make John itch for more. This one spot above his collar bone and just under the end of his neck, on the right side, he left a love mark, and of course, you can't forget the one spot he has behind his right ear, but a little on his neck as well, where Sherlock placed the softest of kisses. John moaned, and louder than Sherlock had anticipated with these moves he pulled.

John's grip on Sherlock's bum became, as he was getting, harder and the needing and wanting of more was apparent. Sherlock could feel John on his right thigh, and he silently congratulated himself on getting his soldier hard for him.

John's left hand left Sherlock's burnett almost black curls and scaled from his shoulder to his hip, and across to the middle, where Sherlock's pants button was begging to be ripped open. And these were John's favorite jeans, too. The black ones with the gray patches stitched over the thighs. He grinned as he undid the button and pulled them down to Sherlock's thighs.

But what he saw in Sherlock's underwear was a completely different story. He definitely had Sherlock practically begging to just take him, but John wouldn't, he was going a lot slower and savoring every moment he could be with the detective he longed for. So, he teased and pulled off Sherlock's shoes, then his socks and finally the rest of the way down, were his jeans.

They lay on the floor as Sherlock leaned his head against John's forehead and fumbled with the button of John's jeans. Sherlock was shaking, he hadn't done this in so long. John chuckled softly and John's breathing on Sherlock's neck calmed him, "Has it really been that long, Detective Sexy?" Sherlock was aching now, for that nickname set him off.

John's hand went to Sherlock's and guided him through what he was missing. John slipped off his shoes and his socks were caught in his jeans and pulled off when the blue pants hit the floor. The floor that was now decorated with almost all of their clothing. Almost…

Sherlock's hips grinded up against John and John lost the control he had maintained so well before. He basically ripped Sherlock's last article of clothing off and threw it to the floor with everything else. But now Sherlock wanted to play a game with his little blond.

He slowly pulled the cloth of his soldier and with it, himself. He sat on the floor, criss- crossed and everything showing and he begged John to join him. But John couldn't stand this, he left the chair and on top of Sherlock in seconds. They were both on the floor now, and the clothes beside them reminded them that they weren't wearing a thing.

But when John rubbed himself against Sherlock, from his waist to his chest, Sherlock couldn't control his next actions. John was already on top of Sherlock, and had now sat up to straddle him.

So Sherlock took advantage of his position and when he sat up and moved his hips a little to the left and up, he was slowly thrust into the sighing little doctor on top of him. The long sigh had gotten deeper and turned to a moan that he had last remembered letting go of more than two years ago. It was one that he missed and now he loved.

His hands gripped Sherlock's shoulders for stability and each time he felt Sherlock move, he moaned. And Sherlock pulled what John always had on him, he pulled out slowly and slammed himself back in, and each time this was done, John's waist was thrust up a little more than usual, and his moans were so much louder when they echoed off the walls.

Sherlock's nails dug deep into John's skin and a climax to this lustful story was reached. Sweat fell in beads off of their skin and onto the carpet and each other. The smiles were slightly there when they moaned each other's names. Mnmm, it just felt so goooood…

When Sherlock came, John wasn't quite done with Sherlock. The last effortful thrust was placed in John and Sherlock's body gave up. But he noticed that John was still throbbing and didn't want anything to stop until he was finished. Seems as though taking things slow helped the blond doctor.

Sherlock's fingers moved to John's bum where he squeezed and John jumped. Sherlock fell out of him and John flew into Sherlock's mouth. The combination of silk like lips on John's shaft and Sherlock's torturing tongue on John's sensitive head, John moaned so loud that he was sure everyone across the street could hear Sherlock's name, but that didn't matter right now.

Sherlock pulled off a little more and his tongue flicked gently across the top and further down he went and the deeper John's moan became. John couldn't hold it anymore, and he gave up trying. Sherlock tasted John and he swallowed all that John could give. He liked the taste of John, sweet but not too sweet and it wasn't bitter.

John fell off of Sherlock and his back hit the cushion of his chair behind him. The soft of the chair he melted into helped slow his breathing, but not much. Sherlock was panting out breaths and yet still smiling at his breathless little lover. He crawled to meet John's side, "Been a while, has it not?" Sherlock's caramel voice asked his doctor.

John nodded, "Too long," he purred. John's fingers met Sherlock's hand and they fell in between Sherlock's pale but soft yet used fingers. "This is why I love you, Detective, because no matter what you do, you make me want it even more. Even your annoyance," he teased.

"I love you because you can do that," John was confused as his head swung to meet Sherlock's already staring eyes, "You make the simple words of the English language mean so much more than they already do, and that's a lot. I love you, Little Soldier," John blushed and accepted the words from his now fiancée.

He still couldn't believe it as he twirled the gold around his finger, he was marrying the man of his dreams, and the one who will never leave John Watson's side: Sherlock Holmes…


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Warning: Be ready to possibly cry... Sorry. :(**

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Chapter 18

The words were as a lovely broken record in John's mind, "Will you marry me?" he was so blunt yet so sweet. And each time the words washed over him, he smiled again, and held tighter to Sherlock.

Night had fallen over the boys of Baker Street, and they were cuddling on the pillows that they were supposed to sleep on. The blanket pulled over them made the heat multiply and it warmed both the sleeping detective and the sleepless doctor. The doctor stared at the fluttering eyes of his lover and every time he heard his voice say those words, he twisted the gold on his finger and smiled.

John rolled over and Sherlock draped himself over John, his right arm went around John's left side possessively, and his right leg went on top of John's left and under his right. He accepted the arm around his shoulders and kissed Sherlock's forearm.

As he heard the heartbeat and felt the breath of Sherlock, he drifted off to sleep. Finally. But waking up was the awkward part. Apparently, he really liked Sherlock's curls, because John's fingers were threaded through Sherlock's silk. So there Sherlock sat, his shoulders hunched over and he was pouting, "Move your hand, I want food," he complained.

John's hand left Sherlock's hair and he sat up to meet the detective. But then his phone alerted him of a text and he flopped down on the pillows. John reached over Sherlock to grab the phone. He let his lazy detective read it, and he sat up. In a swift motion, he grabbed John's hand and his forearm in his hands and narrowed his eyes at the screen.

"We have a case. But um, who is this?" John asked tilting his head to get a look at the letters under the text, - GL.

"Lestrade. He's a detective inspector and he gets me cases now." Sherlock looks to John, "Gets us cases now, is that okay?" he mocked John and acted as if he was a little child asking for something from a mother.

"Yeah, it's fine," he ripped his hand from Sherlock's light grip and moved to put his feet on the floor off the edge of the bed.

Sherlock plopped the phone on his pillow and crawled up behind John, putting his knees to his lover's lower back, and his lips to John's neck, "I love you, Little Soldier."

John leaned back into the detective, "You shouldn't. But I love you, too, Detective Sexy."

Sherlock blushed, "Why shouldn't I love you?"

"Because everyone who loves me dies," John said simply. He didn't feel guilty about anything, he just knew the truth and didn't care anymore. It was as if this were a burning page, it mattered until it all came to ash.

"I won't die. I promise," Sherlock promised his blond little doctor.

"No, but I might." John still hadn't told him about what he had done when he and Sherlock weren't so close.

"Why?" Sherlock's grip on John's waist became more defined and John squirmed a little. "John, what'd you do?"

"It's what I did, and what I could do. I was going to tell you, but never got the chance to," John didn't want to tell him though. Especially now, with the gold on his finger.

Sherlock's curls tickled John's ear and he listened to everything John could spill, as if Sherlock were a page and the ink were John, spelling out words that the paper will have to deal with. When the words did flow, Sherlock couldn't believe what he was hearing. His shoulders relaxed and his forehead dropped to John's shoulder, and one tear fell from his widened eyes as his hands moved away from his love.

John felt the drop of water on his shoulder and turned to meet the detective, "It won't be for long." He put his hands to Sherlock's cheeks and cupped his face so that Sherlock would look at John. "Just a year, maybe two. Besides, you're always calling me your little soldier," John tried.

Sherlock felt betrayed, "When?" was all he could ask.

"Next month, the third." He bowed his head and turned back round with his hands in his lap, "I thought you'd gotten over us, and I had nothing else to lose, so I embraced the idea of being killed in action. It would have been better than staying where you wouldn't love me," John tried to justify it, and he knew he had to go.

But instead of the hurting words John expected, Sherlock said nothing, and slipped out of the bed he once loved, but he now couldn't stand to be near. The anger burning inside him wasn't displayed, instead the sadness was dominant in his features. He tried to forgive his soldier for this, but he just couldn't seem to.

John was leaving, legitimately, and the only way Sherlock will cope is if he ignores John's existence until he comes back again. His little soldier is leaving to fight, and may never come back, bloody fucking brilliant. Sherlock skulked to the kitchen where he sat in his chair.

John couldn't move from where he sat, he couldn't bear to see the look on Sherlock's face. whether he was pissed, sad or just depressed, he couldn't see it. He didn't want to have to fill a space he had promised to, but never did.

Or so he thought. But really, John had filled a huge hole, a hole that Sherlock tried to fill with drugs and blood and murder, but when he met John, that melted from him and John filled the hole in his heart. Now, that was all t at Sherlock could think about, how John was going to rip him apart and bleed him, and this blood he can't drink.

No, this blood, he'll have to mop off the floor sadly, he'll have to wish it was in him, but it never will be again. He knew how this worked, people go off to war and never come back. They either go M.I.A. or are for sure dead, and that the next few months, was practically saying, "Goodbye, John. Hope you come back to me, even though I know you probably never will."

This was just Sherlock's luck, he falls head over heels in love and the heels come back and bite him in the ass. It was just, so Sherlock's luck that he almost didn't care. He sorta knew this would happen, but was hoping it wouldn't. When John was stabbed, he realized that he could lose him at any point, and this was losing him.

Then, why? Why is this so much worse? Why does he feel as if the words John spoke to him tore his heart out and shoved it in his stomach. This just wasn't right, it was… it was… oh, God! John, why?! Sherlock's head fell into his arms on the table. His fist hit the table, and again and again, until he was sure that it would be bruised.

The tears that fell stung so much more than any he had ever let go before. The waterfall he would usually slide down and stop at the bottom, consumed him and he couldn't stop. He literally had a puddle of tears, and he couldn't stop.

John sat in his room, wondering why he hadn't heard something from the kitchen. Anything, like a utensil being thrown at the wall, or maybe the water running, or maybe just mumbling that Sherlock would sometimes conjure up so he could hear the problem from his own mouth.

That made John think about Sherlock's lips, and how he'll probably never feel them again. Sherlock would probably never kiss him, or hug him or… love him ever again. This made tears fall. Slowly at first, then the more he thought about it, the more unstoppable the salt became.

It just kept falling, as the blood would from a human vein, drip, drip, drip, never stopping until it was done and over with, and when they moved, it started again. Drip, drop, I'm your tears, feel me and give up. This was what they felt as the tears couldn't ever stop. They tried, but couldn't stop thinking about, and in turn, the tears never stopped.

John cuddled his knees to his chest and rocked with the sobs he let go. He then heard Sherlock banging his fist on the table, so many times. John wanted it to stop, for each time he heard it, his heart skipped a beat, (yes, Vamps have a heartbeat. Shut up), and he couldn't breathe.

His breath caught and the tears never stopped, and he shook every time the noise echoed through the flat. John got up and stumbled to the shower he needed. He could barely see, but he didn't care. He walked around the corner and slammed the door behind him and slid to the floor. He could barely even stand.

Sherlock heard the slam and jumped, but never moved from his spot in the chair. Hi right fist bruised and his robe's left arm covered in tears, but he never moved. The tears didn't stop, slowed but didn't stop and he let them flow over his cheeks and his nose, and he just wallowed in self pity, and the fact that John could just sign his life to something so pointless.

John slipped and tried to stand, but failed the first time. He gripped the counter and pulled himself up, opening the doors to the shower. He climbed in, and wished Sherlock was standing behind him as the water hit his back. It was cold at first, and he didn't care. When the warmth consumed him, he only wished it was his detective, and now he regretted everything.

Sherlock felt betrayed, even as a best friend, he had the right to know if John had signed his life to a war. He deserved to know that John may leave but never return. Then he thought about it, and he knew he deserved this more. He deserved this life he was beaten into.

And, you know, the tears aren't just because of the signature to John's death, this was about all the things that went wrong about the boys. Everything, and anything bad that ever happened to them, came rolling back to give them the ocean of tears they both knew were well deserved.

But this, this was just too much. Sherlock then thought about, maybe doing what he had wanted to when he first met John and the college life. Maybe he should just do what needs doing and what he should have done a long time ago. What he wants so badly to happen. He wants the bullet to create the hole he felt in his heart. The hole that will spill blood for so long, until he withers into nothing.

John thought about maybe returning and not coming home to Sherlock. He felt that if he did, maybe Sherlock really wouldn't forgive him. He may survive, but Sherlock may never forgive him for the silence he held for so long. He wasn't even going to tell Sherlock. He was going to leave and write a letter, and never see Sherlock's reaction. But he told him now and had to deal with the side effects.

He has to deal with for a few weeks and he didn't think he could. He finished the shower hurriedly and jumped out. He looked at his face in the mirror. All he saw was a broken man, not a lover or a fighter. He saw someone who would go out on the battlefield and would crawl away, crying, instead of running into the blood and fury. He saw Doctor John, not Soldier John. And he would never see himself the same way again.

Sherlock finally cleared his tears and washed his face. he threw his robe in the washer and sat on the couch, numb of everything. not thinking, not moving, just staring at John's sitting chair, wishing he could stay for just a little while longer. Wishing, honestly, that he never had to leave…

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	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The time had come, and John had a duffle bag over his shoulder. Sherlock had partially forgiven him, but not enough to kiss him goodbye. "I will miss you," John dropped his bag and embraced the detective, "Keep busy and try to live."

He let go and looked at his lover, was he? John still loved him, but he wasn't sure if Sherlock did anymore. Truthfully, he did, but he was still pissed. "John," he looked back onto his detective, "Don't die." He grabbed him from behind and hugged him tight, before letting him go. He watched his little soldier walk down the stairs and out the door, before he closed his own.

John had regrets, but if he can live, and if he can come back to Sherlock he would be so happy. He twirled the… where's the gold? John began to panic, and it wasn't anywhere on him. He dropped his bag on the sidewalk and ran up to the flat.

"Sherlock!" he slammed the door open, "Where's the ring?" he held up his left hand and it was gone.

Sherlock frowned, and pulled a chain from under his shirt, and on the end, was John's ring, "Do you want it back?"

"Well, I… yeah, I would," he walked over to Sherlock and held his hand out, but the detective didn't give it to him, instead he slid it on his finger again.

"Keep it this time. And this…" Sherlock jumped up from the chair he had sat in, and did what he had regretted not doing before: he kissed his soldier. "Goodbye, Little Soldier," he was smiling but had tears starting in those beautiful grayish blue eyes.

John felt horrible now, but at least h had an answer to his internal question, he knows Sherlock loves him. He nodded, and twirling the ring on his finger, he walked out the door for the second and last time. Sherlock plopped back in the chair, and was void of all feelings.

John walked back out to where his stuff was and picked it up again as the car he was expecting stopped in front of him. As he climbed in and wrapped the seatbelt around himself, he licked his lips as he did out of habit, but this time, he tasted Sherlock, just barely, and he smiled through the tears he had streaming down his face.

He hadn't even noticed he was crying until he wiped his face and his hand came back wet. He shook his head at his feelings as the car drove away from his home, and to a new life that he was trained for. Oh, that, he didn't really have that hospital job. Well, he did, but he was also training to be a soldier.

He was an intern in the medical field/private in the British Army. He was used to the classes though, it was basically going through college again, except no homework, just memorization.

He still regretted the fact that he hadn't told Sherlock until about two weeks ago. But, he was also happy that Sherlock still loved him. He thought that after this, he would never have been forgiven. And he wasn't, it's just that if Sherlock hadn't kissed and loved him, he would have felt guilty, and then done something about it. Something that John would have hated.

Sherlock was still thinking about doing what he was going to before, but he didn't want to hurt John. It was most likely that John would be hurt anyway, but Sherlock didn't want to think about that situation. In that, Sherlock really would do it, but right now, he couldn't. it's only one person, but this one person meant so much more than any other one person.

Finally, Sherlock got a call from Lestrade, "We've got another one. It's strange, but I think you can do it."

Sherlock jumped up, "Yes! What is it?!" he was eager to forget everything and deduce something other than John's tired eyes. Even though, he did enjoy the color…

Anyway, "It looks like a suicide, but there's been three and this fourth is interesting. You should come see it, I'll text you the address," and he hung up as Sherlock ran to his room, his curls flying and a smile on his face, finally!

He dressed hurriedly in a suit, and threw on his coat and scarf and stomped down the stairs, slamming the door behind him. He couldn't stop grinning, until he remembered that John wasn't beside him. His grin faded to a smile, but he was still happy. He got to see a death and deduce who it was.

He hailed a cab as he heard the ding in his pocket and he simply showed the cabby the text, and they were off. He looked out the window and still was smiling when they stopped.

John was following someone at a higher rank than him, at the moment, to his bed in a room with everyone else's. they were bunk beds and in two rows on either sides of the room. as he set his stuff down on his bed all the way on the end, and on the bottom, soldiers rushed in and started stripping their uniforms. I guess it is about time for them to be done with the day.

It had taken three hours to get here, and john wondered what Sherlock was doing. He also wondered how he was going to get blood. I mean, it's not like they have it in the kitchen with everything else, duh. But, he was wondering if he could get away with getting some from one of the soldiers while they were sleeping. It sounds creepy, but what else was he supposed to do?

No, fuck that, it is creepy, but Vampyres are creepy in general, so… but still. John shuddered at that idea, when someone tapped him on the shoulder, he turned to see a woman behind him, in a uniform, and her patch was a rank higher than John's.

"Hi, I'm on top," she giggled at how sexually wrong that sounded, "I'm Jen, or as my last name will be the one they use," she pointed to the Velcro attached name to her uniform, "Smith. And you are?"

John wasn't wearing his uniform yet, so she couldn't see it. But why the Hell was a woman bunking with him in the first place? John would have to ask. But as he held out his hand, he could see that there were in fact other women bunking with the men. Huh, right, well, "John. Watson. John Watson," Jen nearly shook his arm off. "Why are there women in with the men?" he didn't mean to be rude.

She shrugged, "They mixed us last week, I'm not sure why. Do you have a wife? Or what?" she nodded to the ring on his finger and he blushed. "Who is she? Is she new? You are so cute!" she ruffled his blond and he sat on his bed.

He thought about Sherlock, "Well, for starters, he," putting emphasis on 'he', "is a detective with the police. He brags about it all the time, but I love him for it. And we're not married, only engaged, but I wish I had married him when I had the chance, anyway…"

He looked back to see her with her mouth open, and smiling, and then an, "AAAAAAAWWWWW!" erupted from her, "You are so adorable! So, you're gay?" she was suddenly serious.

He shook his head, "It's weird, because I'm not, but he somehow changed that. as a matter of fact, I'm still attracted to women, I just love him. It's like being gay for one person, you know?" John was still blushing as he spilled his weirdness between Sherlock and him…


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

He was just chatting with Jen, and then someone pulled him to the side and told him to follow him, and John had no idea what the Hell was going on. he had changed into his uniform, awkwardly, in front of Jen, but at least he didn't have to change his underwear. That would have been just weird. He hasn't been naked in front of someone since Sherlock, and that was, as he felt, a long time ago.

As he was lead out of the room and down a left hall, he asked, "Am I in trouble?" he was worried he had done something wrong. It wasn't unlike John to do something wrong and not know it.

"You're not in trouble, in fact, this is because we know…" they turned right and there were doors, and they took the second on the right. He tapped on the door with his knuckle and said, "It's Watson."

He opened the door and John was pushed in. he saluted to the… Captain!? Damn! The Hell did he do?!

This man gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, "Sit." His green eyes were demandingly dark, and John sat. he twirled the gold, and as he sat, he his hat in his leg pocket. He had lots of pockets on this stupid thing.

"So, as he told you, we know," he smiled, and he tried to make it warm, but it just looked as if he wanted to murder John. John returned the smile warmly.

"Know what, sir?" he had learned that if you didn't add sir, you were dead meat. John was confused, then he thought about it. Did they think he was gay? Like Jen?

"We know, of your… eating habits." John's eyes widened, this was so much worse than the gay relationship. Soooooo much worse…

"Eating habits, sir?" he acted confused, but he was sure that they were talking about his fangs in the night.

"We know that you are a Vampyre. But it's okay. As a matter of fact," he leaned back in his swivel chair and put his hands together, "we encourage your kind to join. Not just Vamps, but Wolves, Weres, and anyone else, really. We'll support and feed you, until your contract is over. Of course, then we can't, but still. Would you like us to feed you?"

"Yes, sir," John nodded, "But, where does the blood come from, sir?" John tilted his head and straightened it again, twisting the gold on his finger on his hand in his lap.

The captain grinned, "That's for us to know, and for you to enjoy," okay… right. Oh well, at least they care. "You'll have a bag of blood slipped into your duffle each night, that should do it." Each night?! "We want you strong and healthy. Now git," he shooed John away with his hand.

John stumbled up, "Thank you, sir," he saluted and scuttled out the door. He closed it softly and exhaled the breath he had held closing the door. "Jesus," he turned around and bumped into that man again, "Fuck! Oh!" he realized his language, "Sorry, sir. Can you help me out of here?" he ran his fingers through his hair, and this man looked frustrated.

He rolled his eyes and smiled, "Yeah, sure." As they walked back he brushed up against John in a way that their hands brushed together. John thought it was an accident and dismissed it as such. But before they turned the last turn into the room, (basically a huge fucking bedroom), he stopped John, "So?" he leaned against the wall, John giggled inside, he just noticed this kid's rank and he was one lower than John.

John shrugged and leaned against the wall, "So…?" he asked, asking him to finish the sentence he started.

"Wanna have some fun, later?" he had his left arm against the wall and leaned so he could look at John's adorable face.

"Fun?" John raised one eyebrow at this weird kid.

He slid closer and pinned John to the wall, and one of his hands was on John's hip, "You know, fun…" he kissed John, right on the mouth, and John jumped and pushed him off, "Later?" he still asked. Okay, this kid was attractive, he had black hair and it hung in his skinny face, but it wasn't Sherlock. He had pretty blue eyes, but they weren't Sherlock's.

"Look, kid. I have someone," he held up the gold on his finger and smiled, "and how old are you?" he stood up straighter.

"19," he blushed at the floor.

"24, bit of a difference isn't there? Besides, the man I have, no offense, is better than anyone can be for me," the kid grinned.

"Man? Are you married?" John shook his head, "Gay?"

"Look, don't tell anyone else this," he moved from the wall, and smiled, "I'm bisexual, not gay or straight," he guessed he was bi, cause honestly, he felt a little attracted to this kid. Not in love, but like a crush, you know?

"Besides, you wouldn't want me. I'm… different, in ways that no one but Sherlock likes. Sorry," he apologized and walked in the room.

"Sherlock? The man you're engaged to?" John nodded. "What's he look like?" he asked as they walked to the end of the room.

They stopped at John's bed, and John described the man he loved more than anything. The kid's eyes were sparkling, "Wow. He sounds dreamy," he blushed and put a finger to his chin. "You're lucky," he looked to John.

"Sure," he shrugged. "Don't you have someone?" John crossed his arms over his small chest, and tilted his head slightly in question.

"No," he looked at his feet in his boots, "I did, but when he heard the word Army, he left. So faithful, but who can blame him? I might die. And you might, too. How's your fiancée feel about that?" he looked at John again.

"He doesn't like it, but we hit this rough patch before, and when we weren't together I signed my name on the dotted line, and when he found out, he freaked, but he's… let's just say, he'll kiss me when I get back, if I get back, but he's still mad about all of it," he finally had the chance to explain this to someone. he looked over the dark haired kid, "I still don't know your name," he smirked.

The kid blushed, "Stanley. Or Stan. But if you want to, you can call me by my last name." he gestured to his patch. Zimmerman, huh. Weird, but okay.

"Okay. Whatever, Stan," he sat on the bed and drug his stuff over his lap, and instantly found the picture that Sherlock had slipped in, it was the one of them still in college, and they were sitting in the grass, leaning back on their hands, secretly holding them, and John was holding the camera.

But it was the context pictures that John remembered most. The one of them kissing, he loved. But this was okay. Stan sat beside him and glanced at the photo, and was about to say something else, but looked at it more now, "Damn! He is dreamy. And you have him?" John blushed and nodded.

"I guess I am lucky," he looked to Stan, who was almost drooling at the picture of Sherlock. John laughed at the kid sitting beside him.

He regained his senses, "Lucky? Dude, that is sexy. Especially with the bad boy look. Does he wear that all the time?" he gestured to the skinny jeans and the sleeveless band tee he had worn that afternoon.

"He used to wear a suit, but then I saw him in that and he started wearing it all the time. It's why I love him, he's amazing in anything." John's blush was now scarlet. But all this time, talking about his love, he missed Sherlock so much, he was almost smiling through tears. But he'll see Sherlock soon.

Hopefully…

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	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Warning: This chapter gets a lot weirder, so just bear with me. But it is a horror story, so...**

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Chapter 21

That night was John's first out of Sherlock's bed and without Sherlock beside him. Even when Sherlock was mad at him, they still shared the same bed, they just couldn't be away from each other, it was an interesting part of their relationship that was developed after the first time they had had sex. Strange, but that was how it went.

And how John wished it hadn't stayed. The feelings he had felt that night were happy, but too sad to let the happy part shine. He longed to have someone breathing on his neck, and to have his curls tickle his ear when he fell asleep. He just wanted Sherlock.

And Sherlock wasn't too far behind. He tossed and turned, left and right, on his back, on his side, and his stomach even, he just couldn't stand having the extra room. but he knew if he tried to replace John it would only fail, and he would have to try even harder and he was too tired to try anything difficult. Not having John there all day to calm him and give him more energy in the process, he was beat.

But he couldn't fucking sleep! Ugh! Why did he have to be such an ass, and then let his little blond become his little soldier? It's bullshit that John even felt that way for so long. Why Sherlock? Why did you have to be such a stupid dick? He blamed himself so much. He just wanted sleep, but he couldn't! Ah! Why?! Oh John, please let this be over sometime soon. Just please…

John faded into sleep and his dreams weren't so welcoming. They scared him more than anything else.

"Sherlock!" he smiled and grabbed the detective into an embrace, Sherlock stood just as he was and didn't say or do anything. He just stood, staring at the Thames in front of them. John could hear the water moving behind him. He finally stared at what Sherlock seemed to be staring at, and it was the weirdest thing John could see: the water wasn't water, it was blood.

But the blood wasn't just red, it was the darkest shade of red John had ever seen, "Sherlock? What happened to the water?" he looked back to the detective. Then there was this sound that was deafening. John felt as if his head would burst. He screamed while Sherlock still did nothing, but stared into the blood running as the river once did.

John was kneeling in front of Sherlock, he had on hand in the gravel, and the other to his head, trying to make the noise stop. He grabbed the burnet's long coat and he still got no response.

But the noise just suddenly stopped, and John looked up to Sherlock. But he was kneeling over John, holding the coat that John was apparently wearing, "When I say run, run!" his eyes were full of worry and something over there was happening.

John looked and it was… Moriarty?! What the Hell is going on?! He was walking out of the blood and brushing it off of himself. He then pulled a handkerchief out of his suit and wiped his face, "Why hello, John. How have you been lately?" he looked to Sherlock, "Hi," he acted as if they were old friends. Then a grin spread across his face and it wasn't just a grin.

It stretched so far, that it was literally ear to ear. John shuttered, and Sherlock whispered into John's ear, Sherlock's curls tickling John neck, oh how he loved the silk. "Run!"

John stood and looked at Sherlock, he nodded. John took the detective's hand, and they ran. As fast as John's legs could possibly even carry him. They were soon under the bridge, then out from under it, and they just kept running along the water that had now changed back to the silver form as John liked to imagine it.

Suddenly they were on the streets of London, and behind a building, "The Hell is wrong with you, Sherlock? Why won't you say anything to me?" Sherlock was looking around the corner of the building. John remembered the moment before and again, he shivered at the chill that smile sent down his spine.

Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders, "What am I supposed to say? 'Oh hi, John. We're about to be murdered.' Just shut up," he seemed so harsh, and void of feeling. Now John knew what this was. This was his worst nightmares coming true, John, to Sherlock, was just another man. Not his lover, not his Sexy Detective, nothing, just another man.

And Moriarty is back on the streets… all of it, just for John. His own little Hell. That was when Moriarty was right in front of them. there was blood all over him, but it looked like he had been feeding, and it was gross.

Then he did something no one could have expected. His hands were this weird glowing red, like a laser pointer except all over his hands and even some of his arms, and this light transferred to Sherlock, some was around his neck, and the rest his wrists and ankles. John screamed at the sudden exchange of, whatever the fuck that is.

But it was evident that Sherlock couldn't breathe.

John woke screaming, "Sherlock!" he sat up and brought his knees to his chest, what the Hell was that? it was so real, and so… why is this him? Jen climbed down from her bed.

"John?" she climbed in beside him, "Are you okay," he shook his head and put his face in his arms.

But Sherlock didn't have the comfort of stopping the dream. John had disappeared and Sherlock was stuck with the man who's smile spread so far, he could see so much more than he wanted to. There was his teeth, and over them was the blood from the skin he had ripped open, grinning like that.

Then, something even weirder. He did this thing, he seemed to glitch, like a video game, and appeared closer and closer and finally he was on Sherlock. He had his hands around Sherlock's throat, and the red was being shoved down through his mouth and to his throat and down even further, and it filled him. Moriarty let go and Sherlock fell to the concrete under him.

His head was full of images he didn't want to see, ever. John was in his uniform, dead, then there were so many others of the people he killed and every so often, John would pop in, dead in a different way, but always in the uniform. "Ah! Stop it! Please… just-" he cut himself off with another scream.

The last image, was John sitting in his chair, and suddenly Sherlock was behind John. He went to shake him, but his head rolled off and down into his lap, "John!" he screamed and then he was home.

The pillows and sheets were full of sweat, and he was panting. He flopped down into his pillows and sobbed. He rolled over into them, and let the tears hit the white that he was now staining…

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	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Jen coddled John and he fell asleep for good, until about 4 am that morning, when the drill sergeant came yelling, "Okay, girls! Y'all need to get your asses out of bed!" he flipped the covers off of some of the younger soldiers. It was pretty funny to see them look at him as if he was their mom. It was hilarious, but John couldn't and didn't laugh.

"Attention!" the last of the few stumbled out of bed, and one of them was Stan, at that John smiled. They stood at attention and John wiped the smile off his face as quick as it had appeared. "Get dressed, and I'll be back in five minutes. Go!" he demanded of them.

He wasn't as harsh as everyone wanted to make him sound, but I bet if you get him pissed, he'll smoke your ass like there's no tomorrow. So John made sure he didn't piss anyone higher than him off. Especially if he wanted to be promoted anytime soon. He was already ahead by being a Lance Corporal, but he wanted to be so much higher. He wanted to at least reach a Captain.

This was his military dream, and because… never mind the other reason. Especially since John can't be thinking about such a thing, or he might get embarrassed by what grows in the process. Yeah… anyway.

He went through his things, shoving Sherlock to the back of his mind, and dragging out his uniform, and quickly changing before the sergeant came back. Jen stood beside him as he finished buttoning the buttons to his jacket. He pulled it down and straightened as much as he could.

"He's missing out on sexy," she said as she stood in front of the bunk with John. John was bewildered, "Sherlock, your fiancée. He's missing out on seeing you in that," she nodded at the uniform. John blushed.

He did always like a man in uniform, or a suit. But Sherlock rocked the bad boy look and John loved that on him, but on anyone else, it looks bad. John wondered if Sherlock kept wearing what he did around John or if he went back to suits. John shrugged, "Anyone in uniform is sexy," he said. Jen blushed at the fact that he had added a warm smile afterwards.

Did she think he was flirting with her? John didn't know, but that was when the sergeant came strolling back in and everyone stood at attention once again.

Sherlock was running through the streets and jumping from building to building, and he remembered the first time he and John had gone roof jumping. John was at first hesitant, but he got the hang of it and Sherlock congratulated him later with stuff that no one but them should know about. But anyway, as he remembered this, he realized that everywhere he went, there was John.

He went to his favorite restaurant, there's John sitting in the corner. He went to get blood, there was John standing right beside him. He went home, there was John everywhere. And sometimes literally, but that's a different story.

He finally caught up with the cab he had been after, and he jumped over the hood as it stopped, at the fact that he had jumped out in front of it! He opened the door and questioned the man inside, "Oh? Well, welcome to London." He slammed the door and walked off back to the flat, brooding.

But that was the car, he was sure of it. But then, oh! God damn it! He was in the car, but it was the cabbie. Jesus, Sherlock can sometimes be so dense, it hurts. Whatever, he'll have to chase them later. He's tired and honestly, he needs blood again. So he walked in the front door of his flat and sat on the floor.

This was getting to be too much. Just way too much, Sherlock needed John. But he was the idiot that had to think he was too close to John. And really, he's right. Love is too much to have while trying to solve cases.

Love is too much in the first place. He sighed and stood to pull his jacket and scarf from his pale skin. He hung it on the coat rack, and almost cried at the absence of John's coat. But he moved on to the kitchen where science was scattered, on the table, in the microwave, on the counters, and even one in the sink.

He smiled at the memory of John yelling at him because he had mixed the wrong chemicals and blew up half the kitchen. He had asked why he even stayed, and Sherlock said it was because he loved him, but John just shut up and brooding, walked off to his room. Sherlock missed him. But oh well.

He stripped his suit's jacket and sat in the kitchen chair, and continued the experiment he started exactly two hours ago, and dripped more of whatever this was on this strange plant. He couldn't remember the chemicals name exactly, but he remembered that it was a type of acid that this plant can supposedly survive. So far, it was a good assumption, but he had to see.

He pulled his box of fags out of his pocket and a box of matches, and lit one. The smoke lifted from it as he put another drop on the little plant. He felt like torturing something. Suddenly someone was behind him, "Sherlock?" it was a woman.

He turned to meet her green eyes, "What?" he puffed on the cig in his mouth and blew out smoke a few seconds later.

He wasn't fazed by the fact that she just appeared out of nowhere, he was used to weird things lately. "I wanted to meet you. even the Demons are talking about you. and they were right about one thing," she got closer and he saw that she was wearing a white dress with a little overcoat.

"Oh? What would that be?" the fag never left his mouth and it bobbed as he talked.

"Your cheekbones. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that your little soldier is being taken care of," Sherlock's eyes widened and narrowed at her, "So, how did that work out when you found out?" she was taunting him.

He puffed on the white in his mouth and let the smoke seep out in return, "Fine. What do you mean, 'taking care of'?" he asked.

She smiled and glitched out of the reality that Sherlock called his own. Damn, well, obviously she's not trying to kill him, or she would have wanted something in return for his life. Was this…? Oh, yes! That little curly hair burnett pulled a power play.

She's saying she can do something to him, but she won't until… what? Sherlock had no idea. But he would love to find out…

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**I know, not much but an introduction and an exercise of my knowledge of the military, but it gets better, I promise... :) Please review!... I'm begging you now... sadly. **


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Sherlock was left wondering who she was, obviously, she's not a Vampyre, because in order to appear in front of him, he would have to have seen her before. Oh, that's the other thing, Vamps can jump through dimensions, (teleport), but John and Sherlock were used to human means of transportation.

Sherlock wasn't sure if he could even do it anymore. He'd have to try it later. But anyway, that rules out being a Vampyre, and Wolves can't shift through dimensions, and neither can a Were. So then, what is she? She can't be an Angel, they don't get their wings in the things on Earth.

Sherlock went through his mental list of supernatural people. Shifters, Rugaru, Jiin (genie), Faerie, and many other half breeds of those. And that leaves a Trickster, or a Demon. He wanted to believe she was a Trickster, but there's no reason why one would want Sherlock. But if she was a Demon, why would she bother with a 'lower life form'?

Sherlock thought about this, and put out his fag in the ashtray he had 'acquired' from someplace, he wasn't even sure. He went back the hall to his bedroom, glancing at the stairs to John's. no, I am sleeping not weeping. He swung the door open and the light crept in to reveal his bed and a few other things.

But he was focused on the bed. He wanted to be there. He stuck one foot in the doorway, and his cell buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, and picked it out as it rang a second time, "What?" it was Lestrade.

He walked out to the kitchen again, "We have a case, and sorry if I woke you."

"Trust me, you didn't. what's this one, then?" he sat and lit another cigarette.

The smoke seeped out of his mouth as he heard Lestrade yelling at Anderson. Sherlock laughed silently, "Anyway, we've got a strange one, and I can't really describe it, just get down here. And I know how you are about the police cars so get a cab," and he hung up.

Sherlock ended the call and grabbed his coat and scarf on his way out to the stairs, and then to the streets. He hailed the first cab he spotted and the address was texted to him as he climbed in, he read it off to the cabbie, and was bewildered at why he was going there. Even the cabbie was curious. But the driver shook it off as maybe he's got a date.

The car stopped and Sherlock paid and rushed over the railing, not even bothering to go around and down. He walked hurriedly to the side of the Thames where Lestrade was standing. He stepped off to the side as Sherlock approached, "I told you, it's a weird one," he warned.

Sherlock knelt before the body, and he almost stepped in the blood that was still coming from the victims neck, "Who found it?" he asked, it's fairly new, by only a few hours. As he analyzed everything, he noticed that the victim had a Vamp bite, and a missing heart.

And it was a little like his college cases, he had one eye only, and almost all the fingers from his left hand were gone. But that could have been done because he struggled, he was pretty strong. Lestrade finally answered, "A woman called us, and she sounded like she was crying. But she called herself Miss Adler. Do you know her?"

This man was Caucasian and had brown hair and brown eyes, he was a little tall, not as tall as Sherlock, but almost. He was a working man, with a fairly new wife. The ring hasn't been on his finger for more than a week. "No, I don't know her. and you should drop this case, you'll never find who did it," he advised.

It was true though, "Why will we never find the murderer?" he had to ask. Sherlock was caught up in the crimson leaking from the man's finger stubs, and he licked his full lips, wanting that blood. But he knew he had to wait until the morning when he can get more. He took one last look at the blood seeping from the man's neck wounds, and looked to Lestrade again.

He kept his eyes away from the body, "Because they're not a man or a woman, and they aren't here anymore," that last part was a lie, but he had to get the police off of this, before they get eaten as well. Lestrade was confused, but he nodded.

And Sherlock had a feeling that 'Miss Adler' was the woman he had spoken to, seeing as this happened almost right after she left, and she was the one to call. She really wants attention. And apparently, she'll do anything to get it. Yup, definitely Demon. "Well, finally," he heard someone say.

Sherlock looked behind him, no one. When he looked back, "Ah!" she was standing right there, "Don't do that, I don't like surprises unless… never mind." Unless John gave them.

"Unless, what Detective?" she asked. Of course she did, "Oh." There was hint of blush, Sherlock swore, then it was gone. But he couldn't be too sure, I mean the sun is coming up, "You want him, don't you/ want him to open the door and hug and kiss you. well, I can assure you you'll do that one last time before he dies. Don't worry, you'll join him in Death's hands."

She grinned at Sherlock, "Why? Are you going to kill him, then me? Listen, I've had threats before, and-" she smacked him upside his 'high functioning' head. He scowled at her.

"I won't kill him, how dare you accuse me of doing such a thing. I wouldn't kill John, not him. He's too much of a sweetheart for that. You, on the other hand, I wouldn't mind stabbing a million times," she glared at him.

"Then who will?" he asked and narrowed his eyes as he tried to deduce things about her, but he came out with nothing.

"Not who, what. The war, dunderhead. He will die, just give it time. But before he does, he'll achieve what he's always wanted to, so at least he won't go out too terribly." He lowered his chin a little to think about this.

Sherlock was hoping John wouldn't deploy, and that he wouldn't die, but I guess he's been severely disappointed. "When?" he almost had tears running.

"Finally, the right question, in a year or so. I hope you have fun writing letters," she waved and flipped out of his reality. He heated that she could do that. so he tried something, like he said to himself that he would.

He imagined his bedroom, the sheets he left crumpled and the science on the windowsill, the pillows on the floor and the blanket at the end of the bed, all bunched up at the fact that his nightmares were turned on and he couldn't turn them off. The last thing he imagined was his door, and suddenly something he thought would never happen, happened.

His reality shifted and he almost fell because it felt as if the floor had been slipped under his feet as the concrete was taken from him. And the transition through all the dimensions until he got back to his own made him almost vomit. The first time he did it, he did throw up. But that was years ago, very many years ago.

He hung his coat and scarf on his bedroom door and flopped down on his bed, not needing to close the door, although when John gets back… oh yeah. No, he will be back, Sherlock will make sure of it, he just needed to figure out how…

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**I know, still not much, but I had to get Sherlock ready to save John. Or will he?... Haha! :D Please review and maybe give me suggestions... I'll take either, or both. :)**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Sherlock slept for more than an hour that night, seeing as he couldn't the night before. But as he slept John was going through what the sergeants called training.

Jen was beside him and Stan was in front of him as they marched around the barracks, honestly, the synchronized marching kinda creeped John out, but he knew this already. "Attention!" they stopped and stood at attention, "At ease!" they placed their hands in the right way and spread their feet just a little.

Then the sergeant went on about how as the sun rises we have a new day, and like the sun, we go through the same thing every day. And blah… then he started asking soldiers why they joined the Army, and John just happened to be the next soldier.

He split the soldier in the front row to get to John in the second row. "Watson!"

"Yes, sir?!" he replied but didn't dare look him in the eyes.

"Why did you join?" he asked a little quieter than the others. He expected a good answer from John, John always has a way with words and he was hoping that he intellect didn't fail him now.

He pursed his lips and then answered, "I joined to fight for my country and to support the ones I love back home, sir!" that would have to be good enough.

"Back home, where? Where is home, Watson?" why is he asking this. The other soldiers were confused as well.

Did he favor John? No one knew, "London, sir!" why? The sergeant nodded, and went back to the front of the platoon, and started up again as the soldiers that he had moved put themselves back in their place. John wondered what Sherlock was doing as the sun rose in the distance. John's cap blocked some of the light, but not all.

Sherlock was still sleeping, but when he woke up, he was surprised to see that woman sitting on the edge of the bed, "I can see why you and John like this bed. It's comfortable and feels as though it'd be nice to lay on." she bounced on it a few times, "And it doesn't squeak, that's good," she looks back to the bewildered Sherlock.

"Huh? I'm tired, leave me alone," he puts his face in the pillow and wondered why he wished John was here so bad. It's been such a short time, and he still feels as though he'll die in the next five seconds.

"I thought you wanted company?" she asked the man beside her.

"Yeah, but I want him in uniform and here, not you. go away," he rolled over and took the blanket with him.

"No," then suddenly her face was in front of his.

"Ah!" he jumped so high that he fell off the other side of the bed, "Stop that." he finally yawned and stretched his aching body. His back crackled and his knees popped.

"You're cute when you first wake up," she says as he scoffed at her. "I've got to say, John is lucky." She was jealous of John, and Sherlock was getting that vibe. He was figuring out why she was hanging around. But why would she want Sherlock, why would anyone want a disheveled excuse for a Vampyre? Especially a Demon.

He had no idea why John even bothered. Honestly, he wanted to just kill himself ever since the day he became a Vamp, but he didn't, because he thought he was doing good, but then his 'brother' told him otherwise, and he picked him up off his knees, and taught him right from wrong, and blah blah… but still, Sherlock has been waiting for the moment when he can just hurt one last person, and it only be himself.

"Who are you?" Sherlock suddenly asked.

"Irene Adler, or 'The Woman', if that's your thing. But you know who I am, Sherlock. Just remember," she touched his forehead with just one finger, and it was just a tap, and he shuttered with 'remembrance' of who she was. She stood to catch him when his knees went weak, and he couldn't stand.

He regained his balance, and stared her in the eyes, dilated. Just as Sherlock thought, he grabbed her wrist and acted as if he was doing it out of lust, but he took her pulse, elevated. She looked into his eyes, and they were full of the lust she planted in him. He hated himself for the next move, but he moved his hands to her hips, and kissed her.

His lips were just as soft as she imagined, and she melted into him as his one hand went to the nape of her neck, then Sherlock realized what he was doing, and that it wasn't John when his fingers found her hair. He pushed her off and she fell on the bed.

He had a sudden head ache and looked at her, "Don't fight it," she smirked, "let it consume you and let me consume you," she sounded cool, but Sherlock could tell she was begging him to stop fighting.

There was something in his head, telling him to get closer, and hotter and fill her with himself, but he couldn't. "No. it- ah- it would- fuck!- it would hurt John." He was kneeling and had his hands to his ears, for the sound that had risen was deafening. "Stop it! Fucking stop it!" he shouted at the chuckling woman before him.

"Why? I like you in pain. You looks so adorable," she hooked her index finger on his chin and made him look at her, tears were in his eyes, "I wonder if John will like if a paid him a visit?" she laughed and disappeared.

Oh Hell no! Sherlock stood and dressed himself quickly, in what John loved, and followed her. He imagined as much as he could without retching, and followed her through so many dimensions, Sherlock felt sick, but it finally stopped and the floor stayed this time.

She was leaning over John, and it was suddenly night, "Sh," she put her finger to her lips, and stroked John's cheek. He twitched and rolled over away from her.

Sherlock was pissed that she had laid a finger on him. His anger boiled, and he was twitching from the want to hit her. "Mm, Sherlock," he sighed suddenly.

Her tongue hit the back of her top teeth and she erupted in a small, "Aw! Isn't that cute? But it's too bad, he'll be a Demon by morning." Sherlock was done with this, and he marched up to her about to punch her pretty face when she flicked her hand and Sherlock flew to the wall to his right.

She was leaning over him as they heard some of the other soldiers stir, but fall asleep again, "Don't test me, Holmes, I have too much power over you for you to test me," Sherlock rolled his eyes and chuckled quietly.

"You say that, because there is a way for me to be better than you. because you're trying to reassure yourself that you're more powerful," he was trying to get an answer, "but you just told me, in your words, that there is a way for me to get more power than you. and I shall do so," he sat up, and she stood straight up, "Don't think I won't," he popped his shoulder back in the place it was pulled out of.

He stood and arched his back to make sure he fixed himself completely. He walked over to John who had returned to his back, and was breathing heavily, "John," he stroked his hair from his face, "John," he sat on the bed beside him.

He looked back and Adler was gone, but he still, "John," shook John awake.

He sat up, "Sherlock? How? Never mind, I'm dreaming," he rubbed his eyes and fell back to the pillows.

"Oh?" Sherlock pulled the bag out from under his bed, and picked up John, princess style, and took him back to the flat. "Dreaming?" they were back in the right time. "They'll notice you're gone, so we need to take you back, but not until I've done what I need to." He let John go, and he stood on his own two feet and was still rubbing his eyes, to make sure this was real.

"Sherlock?" then he realized it was really happening and it wasn't just another dream, "Sherlock!" he grabbed him before he could leave to the kitchen. Sherlock embraced John…

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**Ha! Now you have to read more! Hehehe... Please friggin' review this! **


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Sherlock embraced the soldier beneath him, "John. I missed you so much, but we have to do this, before she notices what I know now, come on," he made John look at him, by placing his index finger under his chin and his thumb to John's bottom lip. He traced it under his skin and shivered out how familiar this touch was, and how he hadn't noticed how much he REALLY missed it.

He placed his lips lightly on John's and the hand went from his face to his waist and gripped him tighter, rubbing them closer together. John stood up straighter and brushed his lips over Sherlock's, "I missed you more," he teased a whisper onto Sherlock's soft lips.

The detective growled slightly and crashed their lips together again. This was just full of possession, maybe lust, but who could tell? They hadn't been like this, in what John felt like was forever. And because of this, he wanted to taste Sherlock again. Just one more time.

His tongue flicked across the burnett's bottom lip, and Sherlock gracefully glided his tongue through John's small but soft lips and brushed his tongue against John's, and the taste of each other burst into them. John moaned a little and Sherlock growled and smashed them together again. Sherlock's sweet tongue left John's mouth and John teased by biting really Sherlock's lip. He really needed to stop now, but he couldn't.

The butterfly kisses were exchanged and they let go, "Missed that too," they said almost in unison. They smiled and kissed again, and broke for good. They knew if they didn't, it would go too far and take too much time. Sherlock started explaining what he knew he had to do, "You need Vamp blood and a little bit of human and Demon blood, but very little on the Demon."

This is after all just a blood spell, plus, they were dealing with Vamps here, everything is blood in the end. "I'm sorry, Sherlock but for what exactly?" John had to ask.

His eyes were wild and full of a passion for this excitement, as he grabbed John by the shoulders, "That's the fun part, we're going to become Demons! It's almost the only way, and I really don't want the other way," he shook his head and his curls bounced.

"The other way?" John arched an eyebrow at him, and Sherlock knew he had to explain.

"We could just die-"

"Yeah, becoming a Demon seems better then. So, how do we even get all this blood?" John asked his clever tall detective.

Sherlock smiled down on his soldier, "Together then? Like always?" he asked his little blond. John nodded. So they easily got the Vamp blood, and now they needed human and Demon blood. Sherlock said he'd get Irene, and John said he could just get some from one of the soldiers.

But Sherlock needed to know, "Can you flip through dimensions?"

"Yes, why?" Sherlock nodded. And they disappeared from each other. John easily got the blood from Jen, he felt it should be her, he didn't know why. But Sherlock getting blood was a little weirder.

He found Irene kneeling in front of a man, and he struck her. she fell to the floor on her hands, "Please. I need to help them, don't-"

He kicked her, "You wanna help them?! how could you even?! Ugh! You disgust me!" he makes her stand and throws her into the wall on her back.. Sherlock didn't like seeing her like this. Sure, he wanted to cause her harm, but not like this, not when she was powerless.

"Irene! Run!" he shouted and was behind the man in moments, he tapped his shoulder, and the man turned around, fuming with anger, "Hi!" he waved and hooked his left fist to the man's jaw. He disappeared and found John again. "Failed, a little."

He sat in his chair, but Irene walked out from the hall, "Hi. Thanks for that by the way Need help?" and the pieces flew together! Irene wasn't protecting herself, she was protecting them. she was helping them.

He stood and looked to John, "I already got the blood." John held up the vile the crimson was held in. then he produced another he had, and poured a little of each into cups he had found and washed out for this purpose.

Together they drank, and it went down their throats as alcohol does, but stronger. Wow, that had a punch! Irene stood between them, "Good," she put her hands to one of each of their shoulders, "Now I can leave," she produced a knife and slit her throat.

"Ah! Irene!" Sherlock shouted, then the high kicked in and he relaxed. Too much in fact, and passed out. But John was already out and dreaming. Sherlock joined him in watching Irene kill herself again and again, each time, the blood splattered and spread further.

Sherlock made them turn away by kissing John, he couldn't get enough of this. "Did we just die?" he asked, focusing on John's eyes instead of the ghast (replay of a death) replaying to their side. John shook his head and shrugged, he didn't know.

John faded from Sherlock, and as he looked one last time at Irene, she winked, and he had just noticed this, before he came back to consciousness. Irene was gone, as he suspected, because she had slipped drugs into her veins before she gave blood, he could taste it now. He didn't know what it was, but it was strong, he'll give her that.

But, what neither of them suspected was that this poison did kill them, and they hadn't realized this until they saw their bodies. Sherlock shrugged, "Together?" he motioned to hold John's hand.

John took it, and it felt so much better than ever before, "Together." He nodded and brought Sherlock into a hug. Their hands were still linked, but he kissed him and then a light appeared. They never thought this would be the end, but it was finally over.

The Angel holding their book slammed it shut between his fingers, "Hmm. He turned to the Angel beside him, "Reap them. they'll be interesting to have around." The woman nodded and smiled.

She disappeared and went to reap the most famous of the Vampyre species. She felt honored, and giddy she was going to meet them. and their ending was well deserved and yet they still felt as if they had more to do. Felt as if something was missing, but this was the end.

I guess they were truly fighters, and only survived to meet one another, and they were so strong, they were considered heroes, and for this, they got a heroic death, in Heaven, where they won't fit in much, but at least they'll be happy. Finally, they'll be blissfully happy without a doubt.

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***blows raspberry* they all die in the end, and it pisses you off, doesn't it? oh well, I needed to end it and this sounded sweet, but horrific a little, so... yay! review even if you rant at me about how I shouldn't have done this... :P **


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